The Oedipus Complex
by Cszemis
Summary: After being dared to seduce the whorish Liane Cartman, Kenny learns that he and Cartman’s Mom may not be so different after all. Cartman however is being torn between fighting for a university place, Wendy, and his mother’s honour. CartmanxWendy
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Oedipus Complex

**Author:** Cszemis

**Summary:** "If something stays still long enough… Kenny will have sex with it."

After being dared to seduce the whorish Liane Cartman, our favourite hooded pervert Kenny learns that he and Cartman's Mom may not be so different after all. At the same time, Cartman is being torn between fighting for a university place and his mother's honour.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, especially not South Park. Please don't sue me. I have nothing to give.

**Shout out:** A big thank you to Rez aka x-Blackrose-x for her drawings on deviant art. I'm not sure if she has a fanfiction account but her rezzed-up drawings helped inspire this story. Thank you

This story is full of adult material and some swearing. Take care when reading.

**Chapter One**

As usual; it was all Butters fault.

All of the boys from the junior class at Middle Park High, especially those that had went to South Park Elementary, were sitting on the bleachers during recess, idly chatting about breasts. Someone at some point (it might have been Craig) made a comment about how Sharon Marsh's breasts were not as pert as once they were. Sharon's son was highly offended by the remark and was barely able to stop himself from defending his mother's breasts. A few of the boys disagreed, saying that they still wouldn't mind sucking her tits.

At that comment Sharon's son began throwing up over the side.

In the resulting argument, the little shy blonde piped up that he had always liked Liane Cartman's boobs best of all. They were not too big, they were not too small, the nipples did not point up like fake boobs, nor did they seem as round as implants. They were just nice, natural boobs.

Everyone turned around to gape at Leopold 'Butters' Stotch, asking how they hell did he know about the boobs of the biggest whore South Park had ever seen. He explained to them in his usual nervous manner, rubbing his knuckles together and stuttering, that he had seen them the last time had went around to Eric's house. Eric Cartman and Kenny McCormick had been plotting to stink bomb the girls' showers after gym class, hoping that it would result in the girls escaping from the smell only half dressed or clad only in towels. Kenny took part in the project for obvious reasons; half naked chicks. Cartman was only interested in seeing one girl, Wendy Testaburger, to humiliate her and secretly to get a better view of her anatomy.

The boys had enlisted Butters help since Butters was used to dressing up like a girl (not by choice of course). Stotch would have planted the bomb, done up to the nines in mascara and lipstick and escaped unnoticed. The plan might have actually worked if Wendy Testaburger had not recognised him and threw a hissy fit, literally kicking him out of the girls' locker room. The girl then burst into the guys changing area to slap and scream at as many of the conspirators as possible. Cartman ended up a great big hand mark on his cheek, standing there only in his jeans while Butters hid from Wendy.

But while he was getting done up, Kenny accidentally jabbed the mascara in Butters eye and the shy young man ran screaming into Cartman's bathroom. He did not realise that Liane was in the shower. Mrs Cartman never locked the bathroom door. Butters almost ran back out again, shouting his apologises but Liane had stopped him. She came out of the shower, drops of water still glistening on her naked skin and she quickly hushed the screaming adolescent. In her kind, motherly way, she helped him get rid of the mascara in his eye, using special liquid soaps and water.

Relating this story to his peers, Butters blushed just a little, saying that Liane was ever so pretty. He temporarily forgot that that woman was twice his age, a whore and most importantly he forgot that her son was sitting right behind him, getting angrier by the second. Cartman, unable to stand the idea of someone like Butters seeing his mother naked, could not control his rage and gave Butters quite a beating. The poor boy was barely able to escape from the homicidal, neo-Nazi and he left the boys with a black eye and a concussion, blood dripping from his nose onto his shirt.

"I think you killed him," Kenny said, sounding rather amused. He found Cartman's fits of rage hysterically funny, even though he himself had been at the mercy of the Fatass's fists before as well.

"There was no need for that Cartman! He's going to have to go the nurse now, fat ass," Kyle Broflovski got up from his seat to run after poor Butters.

Cartman watched him go, narrowing his eyes dangerously, "No one talks about my Mom that way! Especially not that faggy little asshole!"

It was rather difficult for Eric Cartman. Not only was he slightly obese, but his mother probably had had sex with every adult in the little mountain town of South Park, Colorado. Twice.

"He had a point Cartman," Craig smirked, "Your Mom is like a rite of passage in our town. You're not an adult if you haven't had a little of Liane lovin'."

"You sound just like Chef," Stan laughed, while Cartman's face got redder and redder, "Though I bet a little bit of Liane lovin' would do everyone the world of good."

"You guys….seriously!" Cartman seethed through clenched teeth, "Don't you guys talk about my Mom! She's ten times better than the lot of you."

"T-t-ten times better at-at-at what Cartman?" Jimmy sputtered but before he could make a joke about exactly how Liane was ten times better than anyone else, Eric Cartman let out a roar of frustration and jumped away from the bleachers. He stomped away in a temper, his footsteps almost shaking the ground.

"You know, I expected a lot worse for a moment there, I thought he was going to kill us all" Token sighed, thinking of Liane's breasts and the son that would stop the whole world from getting anywhere near them.

"Yeah but his Mom is like a touchy subject to him," Stan told him, "He doesn't like to face the fact his Mom is a total whore."

"You know what I heard?" Clyde looked around at the boys, hushing his voice in case a certain overweight someone happened to appear again. "I heard that Cartman's Mom is like… a hermaphrodite or something. She has a vagina and a dick…"

"Yeah she is," Stan interrupted, leaning back on the benches, top of his head resting on the bleacher behind him. "His Mom is actually his Dad. He has no idea who his Mom is."

The group seemed to take a few seconds to take this idea in.

"But how is she a woman if she is his dad?" Clyde asked.

"I think she has more female hormones or something. Not that it really matters. It doesn't seem to affect her sex life at all."

"Yeah," Craig smirked at Stan and Kenny "I always seem to see Mr Mackey coming out of Cartman's house. Kinda amazing that a chick with a dick can still get Mr Mmm-kay going. He must have a boner for her."

"D-does she still have a d….. Does she still have a di… Does she still have d-d-dick?" Jimmy spat out.

"I … don't know," Stan replied.

"Man, Butters could have given us more details if Cartman hadn't just given him brain damage," Clyde muttered.

For the time being there was a little more respect for Butters; he was the only boy to see Liane Cartman naked up close rather than in some crack whore magazine. It was common for Cartman to find naked pictures of his mother from such magazines stuck to the front of his locker, but being such a good BFF Kenny would get rid of these pictures. He had secretly built up quite a collection of Liane porn and if he looked beyond his next hard-on he might have begun to realise he actually had a little crush on her.

Thinking back on his collection, Kenny spoke, "No, I don't think she has a dick anymore. I think she had, like, a vaginaplasty or something."

"That would explain Mr Mackey's regular visits," Craig said, "But we should get someone to find out because there's a big chance that we could one day do be doing her as well."

"Yeah but who do we get to find out?" Stan asked, "We can't ask Cartman because one, its sick, and two, he'll kick the crap out of us for asking."

"Someone would need to hide in a wardrobe or something," Token said, his eyes flicking of their own accord in Kenny's direction.

"What sort of pervert would hide in a wardrobe?" Clyde asked but his mind answered his question for him and he too turned to look at Kenny.

Stan smirked and he too looked at the hooded blonde. Kenny meanwhile was caught up thinking about his porn collection; his mind chronicling and separating porn by content, actor and length. From threesomes to S&M, Kenny had it all, stashed under his bed. It was only when his mind registered all the smirks from every direction that Kenny broke out of his lustful daydreams.

"What you looking at me for?"

"We need a pervert and you're quite simply perfect for the position," Craig told him.

"Erm….one, I don't know what you're talking about, and two, I'm not a pervert!" Kenny tried to defend himself.

"No, you're a sex-crazed, randy little asshole," Stan slipped his arm around Kenny's shoulders with a smile, "But don't worry dude, we understand, it's a condition."

"I'm not a pervert," Kenny muttered, shrugging Stan's arm away, "And why are you lot picking on me anyway?"

"We need someone to find out for us whether or not Cartman's Mom still has a penis," Stan explained.

"Why?"

"Weren't you listening, dude?" Clyde groaned.

"No, I had better things to think about."

"Well you do agree that at some point in our lives we will have sex with Cartman's Mom," Stan said, "and a couple of the guys don't like the idea of doing it with someone who has a penis."

"Yeah, I'm not gay. Gah!" Tweek pulled at his hair at the very idea.

"TIMMAY!"

"Bunch of douche bags, you're all too closed minded," Kenny glared at everyone. He had accepted a long time ago that he was bi-sexual and had jacked off thinking about some of the boys in his class before. When he told his best friends about it Kyle had joked that Kenny was just being selfish. It was unfair that Kenny could have every girl he wanted without having to take the guys as well.

"Now listen Kenny," Stan spoke softly to his friend," You are the only man for this job. Cartman will most likely kill anyone he finds trying to get close to his Mom..."

"And that isn't exactly a problem for you!" Craig interrupted.

"Shut up you douche!" Stan snapped at Craig before turning back to Kenny. Craig flipped him off behind his back. "Cartman would kill one of us for being friendly with Liane. As his BFF you can get close to her without him thinking too much about it."

"You need to bring back photographic evidence as well Kenny," Token told him."

"Nuh uh, "Kenny withdrew his face further in his hood. His voice was muffled and the boys had to listen closely to understand him. "No fucking way am I spying on Liane."

"Come on Kenny," Craig frowned, "You're the biggest man-whore in all of Park County."

"You've practically had sex with every girl in our class, dude," Clyde agreed.

"What's in it for me then?" Kenny growled. "As usual; nothing. You guys make me do stuff for you lot all the time and then I get killed in the process."

"Just a second dude, "Stan pulled all the other boys together in a circle and they spoke low to each other for a few moments.

Kenny sat fuming. It wasn't that he was afraid of Cartman but he was pissed off that everyone thought he was just some sex crazed perv. You have thought that he treated women as mere objects if you looked at the posters on the wall and the porn under his bed. On the contrary, Kenny was a perfect gentleman when he was with a girl. And strangely that was why he was so successful.

Growing up he had experienced his Mom and Dad screaming and kicking the shit out of each other. Disgusted by such behaviour, Kenny treated each of his girls as princesses, pulling out their chairs and holding doors open. He did not have much money but he always tried to buy them flowers. None of the girls at Middle Park High were used to such special treatment and aglow with happiness it would not take them long to be kissing the hell out of Kenny McCormick. He quickly caught on that good manners had girls dropping their knickers quicker than you could say "David Hasselhoff."

It also helped that Kenny was quite a good lover. Years of watching porn had taught Kenny many things about the female anatomy and many girls boasted they had only achieved orgasm under the talented hands of Mr McCormick. This pissed off many guys at the High School, feeling threatened by Kenny's mere existence. But Kenny could never keep a girlfriend as he felt that he was too young to be in a long term relationship. Consequently, Kenny became more of a gigolo figure, helping girls out at exam time if they needed to relieve stress and an enjoyable rebound after a break-up.

After some length, the group of boys turned back to face Kenny.

"We'll give you $500 to find out whether or not Cartman's Mom still has a dick," Stan told his friend.

Kenny thought about it for a moment. Five hundred dollars was a lot of money, money that Kenny could really do with. But it also meant going behind his best friend's back and trying to get intimate with his mother.

Because you could not simply slip into a conversation, "Oh Mrs Cartman, can I see your crotch to see what type of genitalia you have? And if it's not too much trouble, can I take a picture too?"

"I don't know, you guys. Eric is my best friend."

"Come on Kenny," Craig spat at him, "How good a friend can Cartman be? He's a douche bag."

It was common knowledge that Craig and Cartman despised each other. Not as much as Kyle and Cartman hated each other, but Craig was so similar to Cartman that the two could not stand each other. Craig was arrogant, rude and offended everyone by flipping them off. Cartman did not flip people off but he was calculating and vicious in ways that even Craig could not compete.

"Tell you what Kenny," Craig opened up his wallet, "I'll give you a hundred bucks right now if you can screw Cartman's Mom before Junior Prom."

Everyone in the group gasped.

"TIMMAY!"

"Dude! You can't ask him to do that!" Stan stood up, his expression horrified.

"Omigod! That's like too much pressure!" Tweek squeaked.

"How about it, Kenny?" Craig waved the money under Kenny's nose, his expression sinister. "You're the poorest person here. You need this money. I heard your Dad got fired again. How are you going to eat Kenny?"

Kenny snatched the money out of Craig's hands and counted it. One hundred bucks right there. It felt so good in his hands. He could buy his little sister a new jacket or a new pair of sneakers for his Mom. Kenny hesitated and looked up at Craig before slipping the money into his pants pocket.

"Kenny, you can't seriously be thinking about doing this?" Stan said to him. "Cartman will literally kill you so you can't come back."

"I know, but like Craig said, I need this money."

"Dude if you need money you can always borrow money from us!"

"I'd rather work for it," Kenny muttered.

"Work? As some sort of prostitute Kenny?" Stan wouldn't let it drop.

"Hey I never said I'd sleep with her," Kenny frowned. "We'll just see how things work out. If I don't score then I'll give the money back."

The bell for class rang and everyone started gathering up their things. Stan held back with Kenny and the pair walked together to their English class.

"It was nice knowing you Kenny," Stan said softly.

"Cartman won't kill me. We're best friends. I'm just going to screw his mother. Nothing to worry about."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** The Oedipus Complex

**Author:** Cszemis

**Disclaimer:** I told you before! I own nothing!

**Chapter Two**

"Come on, you big bunch of fairies!" Pip jeered from the sidelines of the football pitch, letting out a whoop every time someone fell flat on their ass.

"Call this football? You all look like a bunch of turds to me! Bunch of fags with all that padding!"

Pip did not join in with the P.E. class. Not because he did not want to play sports or get sweaty but because the teacher absolutely despised him and his spiky hair. Mr Anderson took one look at Pip's Brit Punk gear, listened to his accent and benched him for the whole year. Pip did not necessarily care about this treatment because this term the boys were playing "American Football", a sport which Pip found far too amusing to watch.

"Pirrup, if you don't shut that hole of yours I'm going to make you do laps," Mr Anderson barked at the young British boy.

"Sorry, Mr Anderrrrson," Pip drawled the name, Matrix style. He smirked and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Oi Donovan! My aunt Ethel in Torquay could play this sport better than you!"

"Alright, Pirrup! Laps!"

Kenny chuckled to himself as he watched Pip break out into a run. He still jeered them all as he ran.

"I'm going to kick his ass one day," Cartman muttered as the team broke for a minute. Pip had just shouted something about Cartman's ass not needing padding as it was padded enough already.

"What did I miss earlier?" Cartman spoke again, eyeing up Kyle, mentally planning the best time to push the Jew Boy's face into the dirt.

"You mean when you beat up Butters?" Kenny asked quietly as the coach screamed at the top of his voice. "Same old stuff. Craig was being a douche bag and talking big as always."

"Yeah, must kick his ass one day too," Cartman smirked.

When the coach told them to hit the showers because he was sick and tired of how crappy they were playing, Cartman took his opportunity to knock his padded shoulder into Kyle. Kyle stumbled but was held up as always by Stan who glared at them.

"What's your problem now fat boy?" Kyle tried to rub his shoulder through his padding. "I didn't do anything."

"You were standing there Kyle."

"So?"

"Well, that was enough. The fact that you exist is enough," Cartman laughed cruelly walking towards the locker room. Kenny followed behind like a pet dog.

"You know if you keep manhandling him like that people are gonna think that you like Kyle," Kenny grinned to himself.

"I don't like Kyle," Cartman growled, "I hate Kyle. I hate every bone in his body."

"Well stop knocking him into the dirt or people are going to think you like one of his bones," Kenny raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Eww, Kenny, sick! Why I have to be friends with an evil, bi-sexual person like you is beyond me."

"Because you love me really," Kenny started pulling off all his gear, starting with his helmet. This was one of the few times people got to see his hair. His shaggy blonde hair fell about his face and he ran a few fingers through it to keep his dishevelled. "Oh how I hate helmet hair."

They were soon joined by Stan and Kyle who took up their usual positions. The running order as always Stan, then Kyle, then Cartman, then Kenny. Both best friends standing beside each other as well as the two enemies. Kenny never really understood why Kyle and Cartman always stood beside each other. It would make a lot more sense and be more peaceful if it went Kyle Stan Kenny Cartman. But somewhere out there, there was a God or some lazy animator that placed Kyle and Cartman next to one another so that they could fight easier.

Even in the showers they stood in the same order. Having grown up together, they were used to seeing each other in the buff and Middle Park High was so crappy that it did not have individual showers. Kenny did what he always did, eyeing up everyone else and washing out every little crevice. His house did not always have running water so Kenny often had his showers in here. He had had to ask permission of course to use the showers in a daily basis but it was cool. Everyone knew he was poor and no one wanted to think of no water in their house or only cold showers everyday like he did.

Being so far away meant that he did not need to talk about the bet with Stan or put up with his stares. Not that he could even see Stan from behind the fat ass and for that he was thankful. Cartman did not know often that fat ass had saved him from situations that he did not like.

Instead he looked in Pip's direction who was busy preening, adjusting his spiky hair in the mirror. One day it had happened, the British boy had changed. Sure he was still soft hearted and still spoke in his limey accident but what had happened during the graduation from middle school to high school had changed him completely. It used to be that Pip only lost his temper when people said he was French but when Cartman had tried to kill him by dropping a stage light on him during his end of year speech the years of conditioning had made him snap. As usual the stage light hit Kenny so he never saw what had happened next. But he heard that Pip actually lost his head and almost kicked the crap out of Eric. For years Mr Mackey had encouraged his shyness, rendering him stoic, nothing more than a pushover. But mere inches from death he was not willing to take it from the likes of Eric Cartman anymore.

Kenny did not know if Pip was gay. He suspected, perhaps sometimes hoped that he was. Because after that incident Pip had became almost cool. He was still a bit of a fag but he went back to his roots and discovered bands like the Sex Pistols and Space. His trademark hat had vanished as had his cute little red coat. No one could believe the change when he strode into his first day of high school all in black. He was not a Goth. Oh no; he was not that much of a fag. He said he was punk and came to school wearing odd coloured shoes and safety pins sticking out of his clothes.

Kenny wore safety pins in his clothes too but not in the way Pip did. He was just trying to hold the material together in any way that he could until he could afford new ones. He hated shopping for clothes in charity shops. He would rather eat shit again than do such a thing. He only had one item of clothing that he did not buy himself and it had been a gift from Eric. Perhaps not a gift per se, but Eric threw it in his direction after his aunt had given him a bright orange hoodie. Eric simply did not suit orange but luckily Kenny did.

He lifted his treasured hoodie out of his locker after he and the others towelled themselves off, his fingers tracing three little letters that covered the chest. GAP. He never had anything with any kind of label and no matter how raggy and dirty the piece of clothing got Kenny still treated it with a strange sort of reverence. He had tried to hide holes under the band badges and he wrote his name down one slave to make it uniquely his own.

"You need new clothes Kenny," Cartman said out of one side of his mouth, "Why do you still have the disgusting old thing?"

"Oh I don't know," Pip smiled at him, "orange brings out the highlights in his hair. Quite dashing you could say."

"No one asked your opinion Frenchie."

"For the last time," Pip narrowed his eyes, "I am not French. I hate French people. From their disgusting garlic breath to their bad accents. I am BRITISH!" Pip pointed at the small Union Jack decorating the front of his top. He also had a shinier flag on his belt but he wisely didn't point in that particular direction in case Cartman took it as some hint to kick him in the balls.

"Oh you don't need to remind me Frenchie. Your accent does that for me. Every time you open your mouth a tea cosy falls out!"

"Every time you open your mouth a bucket of Colonel falls out, fat ass," Kyle interrupted.

While Cartman and Kyle got into another bitch fight, Kenny was fighting to keep his trousers up. Low and baggy was the style but any lower and he would be arrested for indecent exposure. He wiggled his slim hips and tugged the material up.

"Eww Kenny don't wiggle your ass in my face," Stan pushed Kenny away from him.

"You trying to tell me something Stan?" Kenny smirked," You don't like my fine, hot ass?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Shame really," Kenny looked Stan up and down suggestively," Because I think you're quite hot too. Not as hot as me but you can't have everything."

Stan was a rather hot piece of ass. Kenny always thought that Stan would end up tall and skinny but he was only 5'10" and had a few muscles from playing football. He had a little bit of a belly which he sucked in often but Kenny thought that the little spare tyre was adorable. Stan's haircut had not changed over the years (although it was a little longer and fell in front of his eyes) but he showed his personality in different ways by wearing ties even without a shirt. Cartman liked this because it gave him something to pull when Stan bugged him.

Cartman, labelled always and forever the fat ass was always and forever a fat ass. At 6'1", his weight made him rather imposing on and off the playing field. If Cartman actually worked out and did some weight training then Kenny believed that Cartman would be built more like a tank rather than simply being fat. You did not want Cartman to sit on you. And during a football game you did not want to come up against him. You could and would be flattened. Cartman did not care about scoring as he hated the game but he enjoyed simply running up and down the field knocking people over. He often knocked Kyle over, saying he mistook him for a rival player but that was not true. He just enjoyed the charge, his prey standing there defenceless against his size.

But Kyle was the biggest surprise of all. Looking at him and his family you would have thought that Kyle would stay small and relatively skinny. Not true. He may have stayed skinny but his height had been a shock. Kenny wondered where Kyle had gotten his height from because no one was above average in the Broflovski household. When Kyle turned fifteen there had been a couple of months when Kyle never seemed to stop growing. Every time you saw him he seemed to have got taller. Now at 6'4" Kyle could probably play the basketball he enjoyed so much as a child but he was more studious, preferring to study rather than throw balls through hoops. His hair was untameable but he didn't mind because girls seemed to find his "Jewfro" adorable. Stan often laughed that you could knock Kyle down and he would bounce back up again because of the curls.

Kenny did not think that his own physique was worth noting as he was quite skinny but either lust or arrogance made him believe that he had one hell of an ass. Wiggling it in Stan's face he was almost envious that Stan was getting to look at a hot ass and he yelped playfully when Stan tried to swat him away.

"Either move it or lose it Kenny," Stan growled. He had not meant to slap Kenny's ass like that and the noises Kenny started to make made his face bright red. A few of the boys turned to look in Stan's direction and it made him go even redder, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Stan doesn't like my fine, hot ass," Kenny told the boys, smirking.

"Leave him alone Kenny," Kyle muttered and moved a little closer to his best friend," and your ass isn't all that much."

"Oh you just can't handle my bootylicious booty. None of you can."

"You're not so hot McCormick," someone in the back said.

That was all the encouragement that Kenny needed. Peeling off his hoodie and tossing it at Cartman he jumped up on one of the benches. His bare torso on show Kenny began to dance up and down the bench, wiggling his ass and thrusting his hips out. He began to hum a chick song and when Pirrup let out a wolf whistle Kenny burst out into song.

"Kyle can you handle this? Stan can you handle this? Cartman can you handle this? I don't think you can handle this."

Kenny kicked off his shoes one at a time. One flew in Craig's direction perhaps deliberately, hitting the boy on the side of the head. Another shoe knocked against Timmy's wheelchair and the disabled young man protested loudly.

"You gotta do much better if you gonna dance with me tonight," Kenny peeled off his socks and threw them dramatically into the crowd, "You gotta work your jelly if you gonna dance with me tonight. Read my lips carefully if you like what you see. Move, groove, prove you can hang with me. By the looks I got you shook up and scared of me. Hook up your seatbelt, it's time for takeoff!"

By this point a few of the boys had started whooping and clapping along with the song. Elated, this only spurred Kenny on more. What exactly had come over the young man? You could not be quite sure. Excess of youthful energy or strutting his stuff to impress a mate? Well, Kenny was strutting. The bench bounced up and down as Kenny twisted and turned on its surface.

"I don't think you ready for this jelly, I don't think you ready for this jelly, I don't think you ready for this, cause my body too bootylicious for ya babe."

From his right, towards the door, Kenny could hear some high pitching giggling. All of the boys in the year had their voices broken so that only meant one thing.

Girls.

There stood Bebe Stevens watching him dance. She let out an excited little squeak and ran back onto the girls changing rooms. A few moments later the entire girls' gym class broke into the male changing rooms to see Kenny dance. The guys approved of this latest development, pulling nearby girls onto their laps. Eric Cartman, still holding Kenny's hoodie, edged closer to Wendy Testaburger, her face was lit up with laughter. But the boyfriends put their arms around their girls' shoulders in case they got too excited by the sight of a half naked Kenny.

Not half naked for long. Spurred on by his adoring audience Kenny allowed his jeans to drop a little below his hips. He hooked his thumbs through the belt hoops in his pants and edged them a little further down his legs. The girls let out an approving scream and so Kenny dropped the jeans all the way down to his ankles. He nearly fell off the bench as he tried to kick himself free of the material and secretly wished that his jeans had been like stripper trousers with Velcro down the side for easy removal.

After he got his feet free, he picked the jeans up and swung them around about his head, circling his hips and spinning around in the same way. When everyone burst out laughing he let them fly into the crowd, disappearing somewhere amongst his audience.

"Move your body up and down," Kenny sang his heart out and his audience responded just as enthusiastically just chanting "whoo!" after each line.

"Make your booty touch the ground (whoo!) I can't help but wonder why (whoo!) Is my vibe too vibealacious for you, babe?"

Kenny turned his back on his audience, putting a hand on each hip. Hooking his thumbs around his boxers he started to edge them down, his butt crack in plain view for all to see. But it was obviously a nice butt crack as everyone cheered and laughed. Moving his hips from side to side, he pulled his underwear to below his knees, shaking his naked ass.

"I shake my jelly at every chance, when I whip with my hips you slip into a trance. I'm hoping you can handle all this jelly that I have, now let's cut a rug while we scat some jazz!"

"Come on Kenny!" Bebe yelled, her blonde frizz bouncing up and down, "Get them off!"

Kenny did as he was told and in a few moments he was as naked as the day he was born. Some fell about laughing. Others tried to swat his butt and some even tried to make him turn around so they could see more of him. Kenny bent down to pick up his underwear and like a bride's bouquet he threw them into the crowd.

"My body's too bootylicious for you babes!" Kenny tried not to laugh himself but then he heard something that made his skin turn to ice and made him shudder.

"MR McCORMICK!"

He did not need to turn around. The whole audience sucked in a breath as one, turning to face a furious Mr Anderson. The coach tapped his foot on the ground, looking from the girls to Kenny's bare ass and back again.

"What exactly is going on in here!" he barked. "Girls out! Now!"

The guys groaned in frustration and the girls grumbled, pushing their way past the coach, shooting glares at him as they passed.

"Down from there McCormick! And get some clothes on! You can make your way to the Principal. What's going on in your head, stripping for your friends? You a queer or something?"

Kenny's face went bright red and with one hand hiding his privates, he turned around. Jumping down from the bench he tried to look for his clothes. But he found nothing. Every item of his clothing had disappeared.

"Erm…coach," Kenny began; feeling very exposed now," I can't find my clothes."

"Well then you're going to have to go the Principal exactly as you are."

"You can't do that! I'm naked!"

"That's your fault, not mine kid. Now get your scrawny ass to Principal's office!"

Kenny hesitated, one hand still covering his modesty. He looked from each of his classmates desperately. Craig smirked, waving one of Kenny's shoes out of sight of the coach. Stan and Kyle just looked at him sympathetically while Token and Clyde were still half-laughing, biting the insides of their cheeks to stop from going into hysterics.

"You can't do this!" Kenny protested. "Abuse! I could sue you know!"

"And I could have you arrested for indecent exposure and have you expelled. You'll be getting three months of detention if you don't get out that door right now!"

Something very smelly and bright orange hit Kenny on the side of his head. Pulling it off he realised that someone had found his hoodie. Cartman sat on the bench quietly, his expression serious but his eyes were laughing. Kenny mouthed a thank you to his best friend and pulled his hoodie over his head. It was long enough on front to cover most of his dick but his ass was still very much on show.

Glaring at his teacher, Kenny stormed past Mr Anderson and into the hall, one hand keeping the front of his hoodie pulled down. The fabric would probably stretch and stay that way but Kenny was not in the mood to have all the teachers and pupils in the school snickering at his embarrassment.

As he passed the girls locker room he heard an eruption of laughter. Stopping for a second Kenny realised where his clothes had disappeared too. The bloody girls had stolen his things. He was tempted to knock the door down to fetch his underwear but he knew that would put him in more trouble. A naked guy in a school room full of chicks? It would not be expulsion he would be facing, it would be banishment.

He pondered who exactly had his hands on his underwear when he reached the Principals office. He expected her to yell, to go bright red at his appearance or even for her to look away. He did not expect her to roll her eyes and sigh exasperated.

"Mr McCormick, how many times do I have to ask you not to run around the school naked?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Right, you can stop picking on me now. I don't own South Park! Alright, I admit it! I don't own South Park! Golly, don't be mean.

A big thank you to everyone who reviewed. Wolfbane2, my very first reviewer, thank you so much. Drucilla Black, Call Me Blue Streak, animeninjaNIPPON, thank you guys so much for saying that it was hilarious. And of course the ever awesome Broflovski fan, I too know what it's like to be the tall girl. 5ft9 and a bit (the bit is v.v.important). I want a nice tall man too. Where are they all?

This chapter is not as out loud funny as the last one (in my mind anyway) but it's a darker kind of funny as Cartman does find himself in a rather serious situation. (I'm not anti-semitic in case anyone takes offence at what Cartman says. If I wasn't Catholic I think I would like to have been Jewish. Don't know why...just do.)

Happy reading!

**Chapter Three**

"Mother, exactly how many times do I have to explain this to you," Eric Cartman stood beside the computer fuming.

"Oh poopsiekins, you know I don't know how to use this….thing," Liane waved her hand vaguely at the computer monitor.

The screen was completely blank. Cartman had set his mother the relatively easy task of switching on a computer before he had disappeared up to the bathroom to pee. When he had come back down the stairs the computer still remained off and Liane was far more engrossed at reading a magazine, one of the pages headlined "Sex Tips for Hermaphrodites."

Glaring at her, Cartman pushed a small button on the monitor and then another on the computer tower. He made his actions large and overly dramatic to teach his frustrating mother how to use a bloody computer.

"You press nyah and then you press nyah!" Cartman indicated each button while the computer hummed into life. Liane just blinked and turned back to her magazine.

Furious, Eric ripped the magazine from her fingers, "You think this stuff can help you?" he hissed at her, tossing the magazine across the room.

"Eric!" Liane looked at him reproachfully, beginning to stand up.

Cartman pushed her back onto the computer chair. His mother narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms across her ample chest.

"Sweetums, you can't treat me like that."

"Mom did you or did you not agree to learn how to use a computer? To help you get a job?"

"Yes, I did," Liane sighed, looking glumly at the computer, "but it's just too hard."

"No, it is not," Cartman pulled up a Word document, "I mean I bet even stupid people like Paris Hilton and even Tom Green can use a computer."

"Isn't one of them a whore?" Liane perked up a little bit.

"I think they both are," Cartman muttered. "Now, Mom, this is what we call a Word Document. You can use it to write letters or stories or do reports and all sorts of crazy things."

Cartman hated talking to his mother like she was a child but it was a fact that Mrs Cartman had the attention span of a child and so he had to heighten his voice and give it more character than he would like.

"I mean, like, if your boss wanted to write a letter to some asshole you just press the keys for the letters and words that you want."

Liane did not look impressed, "Can't I just use a pen?"

Cartman balled up a fist out of his mother's view.

"No you cannot use a pen. You have to type!" he slammed a fat fist on the keyboard.

"Hjmbguyh," Liane read what he had accidentally written," What does that mean sweetie, is it a computer word?

Cartman let a small groan of frustration.

Hs mother perked up however, "Oh sweetie, I have a computer joke. What do Microsoft and an old bra have in common?"

"Mom, please, not the bras."

"They offer very little support!" Liane Cartman laughed at her own joke and was surprised not to see her Eric laughing too.

"Mother, please, for the love of God, you have to pay attention to me."

"I do pay attention Eric but I'm going out with…friends tonight and I need to get ready."

"I know exactly who you are going with," Cartman spoke angrily, "and I'm not letting you get ready until you type."

"Eric!"

"Mother. All women are able to type. Now I do understand that you are not completely a woman and I understand how difficult your lifestyle must be. However, you are still part female and all females know how to type. It's in their blood. For years they used typewriters, now we use something more sophisticated and it's called a computer. You can type letters Mom, I know you can. Just like you can cook, and sew and iron and clean the house because it's all natural to your feminine side. Women can do all of these things and so can you."

"Why do I have to learn about this computer sweetie?" Liane let out a mournful sigh.

"Because for the first time in your life you are going to get a goddamn job. A proper one that pays money; a regular income so we can pay off our bills and the mortgage."

"Why? I'm not good at work type things."

"Why?" Cartman brought himself up to his full height, his chest swelling, "Because if you don't then the gas and electricity will be shut off, the bank is going to take the house, we'll be living in the streets and we will have to move in with the McCormick's like poor dirty assholes."

"Don't be silly sweetie," Liane stroked the side of her son's face, "such bad things don't happen in real life. It's all a fairy tale."

Cartman grinded his teeth together in frustration.

"Don't do that sweetikums," Liane cooed at him, "you'll end up with bad teeth like African or British people."

Eric sighed. Since the age of ten when they had gone through a period of poverty, had the electricity shut off and Cartman missed a marathon of Terrance and Phillip, he had tried to understand the family accounts with very little results. Now ten years olds do not usually understand such difficult things like accounting but Cartman always tried to make sure there would be enough money to pay for good clothes and enough food to keep him satisfied. Six years later and Cartman was still looking over the books, but now he had a better grasp of the situation and he had to admit that it frightened him. His mother was not getting paid as much for sex anymore. She may still be rather attractive but she was getting older and men paid far less for a woman with Mrs Cartman's mileage. There was simply not enough money to pay off the mortgage and for him to go to college or university. Either he went to college and his mother became homeless or he faced a lifetime stuck in South Park, working in some garage or flipping Pizza's at Whistling Willie's.

"Moooooooooooooooom," he tried to reason with her, "You know I hope to go to college next year…"

"Oh yes. My little poopsiekins is so smart. He's going to go to the best college."

"Mom, no I'm not. We can't afford it."

"But Eric I thought you brought up all your grades. You are averaging at a B. You could get a scholarship if you tried a little harder and got A's."

I'll never get a scholarship, Eric thought to himself.

"I've slacked off for too many years Mom. My permanent record is perhaps the worst seen at my high school. I'll never get accepted anywhere unless I can pay for it. Hitler and Bill Clinton would get accepted into college before I would."

"My baby is an angel. The colleges will love you," Liane pinched her son's cheek.

No, they won't, Cartman told her silently. You don't understand. I've had people killed. Most of the time I've barely passed and nearly had to re-sit a year. I've kicked the crap out of people more times than I can remember. The faculty doesn't like me. No teacher at that school will ever give me a good reference. I'm not going to get to college and I'm going to spend my whole life here stuck in this God forsaken hell hole.

Seeing his sad face, Cartman's Mom cooed at him again and fluffed up his light brown hair. Frowning, Cartman smoothed it back down again. Liane smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, messing it up completely. Cartman growled and tried to suppress the mess, pressing his hands against the top of head.

"Quit it, Mom. I said quit it. Dammit I'm not a kid anymore!"

Liane smiled at him fondly," my little Sweetums is a big tough man now."

Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Just type one sentence for me. Give me something to work with alright?" Cartman temporarily admitted defeat. He was not going to get much success when his mother was looking forward to hours of sex with random men.

Liane smiled at him, "Sure sweetie."

Like Cartman predicted, her fingers were quick and nimble over the keyboard. He sat for a moment just watching her type, admiring how her fingers seemed the perfect size for the keys. His own fingers seemed so fat and clumsy but then he had man hands. Keyboards were not built for men, they were built for secretaries and most of them were women. Many would call this idea sexist but Cartman figured that designers were thinking of women when they designed that bit of hardware.

It was just a shame they did not design the software with women in mind. In Cartman's opinion half of them did not know how to use a computer. Women the world over would argue with him over his opinion but Cartman was the sort of person that would never abandon his views and ideals. He was awfully stubborn that way.

"Look sweetie, look what I've typed," Liane fluffed her son's hair again.

"My son is the best in the whole wide world," Cartman read and for a moment his stomach clenched and he felt ill. He glared at his mother who beamed happily at him and bounced up the stairs to get changed.

"Delete. Delete. Fucking delete," Cartman punched the button over and over, erasing his mother's sentence. He was not the best son in the whole world. He was an asshole. Nothing more.

Eric Cartman loved no one. He never had. He did not love his mother. He cared about her of course but to Eric's mind loving someone meant being able to look past their faults and accept them. He would never be able to accept his mother's, his father's whoring ways. The woman he called "Mother" was a woman who had unfortunately been born with a dick and impregnated some other whore in a bizarre lesbian romp at the Twelfth Annual Drunken Barn Dance. He had no clue who his real mother was. For all he knew it could be Sheila Broflovski (Cartman shuddered at the very idea). His mother was too drunk to remember and in a fit of rage at the age of eight he had told Dr Mephesto that he did not want to know. These days he almost wished that he did know. Just so that there could be more than one income in the house and he could get to college. Even if Cartman got a job there was no way he could fund his education all by himself. Hell if there was someone else in the family then Cartman would never need to get a job. They would pay for college and he could keep on cruising through life. Life would be simple. Easy.

Or at least it would be if he had a real mother.

No one knew that Cartman was facing this sort of crisis. Except Kenny. Cartman did not love Kenny either but he trusted him a lot more than those skanky gaywads Stan and Kyle. Kenny you could talk to without being lectured about being an asshole. With Kenny you could have a lot more fun: burn ants on the sidewalk or toilet paper some assholes house. You could even blow stuff up because Kenny was very good at setting things (and himself) on fire.

"Tonight will be the night of my dreams," Cartman sang to himself as he switched off the computer," I don't have to feel wonderful. Tonight I don't want to feel bad. Cause tonight will be the night of my dreams. Tonight I don't feel anything."

Facing the mirror, Cartman once again pulled himself to his full height and stuck out his chest, "Beefcake," he whispered to himself.

"You will go to university Cartman. Even if that skanky whore ends up homeless. It's all her stupid fault that she doesn't have a job. She's a whore and you are so much better than she will ever be. You're going to be the President of the United States Eric Cartman. You have to, to finally free the world of people like Broflovskis."

As if she was waiting for him to make this statement, Sheila Broflovski rang his house. Cartman stared at the phone for a few moments.

"Mooooooom! Some asshole is calling us!"

"Oh could you answer it sweetie?" Liane called from her room, "I'm adjusting my boobs!"

"Too much information, you stupid ass whore," Cartman picked up the phone.

"Are you talking to me like that Eric?" Sheila Broflovski's horrible nasally voice came through the receiver. "You had better watch your language young man."

"I'll watch me put my foot right up your ass if you call me young man again."

"What! What! WHAT!" Kyle's Mom shrieked.

"I said that I'd kick you up the ass if you called me young man again."

"Where is your mother?" that woman's voice just seemed to get higher and higher pitched, "I want to speak with her right now."

"She's adjusting her boobs," Cartman sighed, picking at some wallpaper, ripping little bits off.

"You tell her to….adjusting her boobs?"

Cartman grunted.

"You're a rather strange young man Eric Cartman."

"Jewish people are strange too but at least I can blame my upbringing. Your faults are genetic."

"How dare you?" Cartman yawned while she spoke," Jewish people are not strange."

"Then how do you explain Jewish cuisine?"

"Where is your mother?"

"I told you bloody bitch," Cartman tried not to yell down the phone, "She's adjusting her boobs and then she'll be going out to have sex with men I don't know, then come home, get messed up on crack and pass out on the lawn. She does not have time to talk to irritating, interfering, douche bitches like you."

There was silence on the other side of the phone. For a few moments he could just hear her breathe in and out.

"Does this happen often Eric?" Sheila spoke in a softer tone.

"She's done it nearly every night since I was five so no it's a very rare occasion," he told her sarcastically. Kyle's Mom knew exactly what his mother was like.

"Do you eat well enough, get enough to eat?"

Cartman looked down at himself, "I'm nearly as fat as you Mrs Broflovski so I'd say that I did."

"I don't mean junk food Eric."

"Then…no."

"I thought as much," how dare she pretend to care?

"I called tonight," Sheila began again, sounding a little uncomfortable," to ask your mother to pick up a bottle of wine on her way to the book club this evening. Could you tell her for me…please?"

"My Mom's joining a book club?" Cartman snorted in disbelief, "The only books my Mom is capable of reading are Nancy Drew mysteries or Sweet Valley pre-teen chick books."

"Well tonight we are discussing the Sweet Valley University thriller Killer at Sea."

"How wonderful for you."

"You know Eric; there are more ways of expressing yourself besides sarcasm. You really need to open up a little, tell people about your problems."

"Fine. I will open up to you Mrs Broflovski. I think it's sad and pathetic that an adult book group gets together to talk about kids books. I think you're an interfering, whiny little bitch that seems determined to make my life miserable. I hate you. I hate your whole family. I hate the fact that you have wasted my time on this phone, lecturing me even though you have absolutely no right to. And I hate that you pretend to care even though you are incapable of caring about something besides Barbara Streisand, endangered pandas and swearing on TV."

Cartman smirked to himself, expecting the woman to shriek at him through the phone. He always relished her anger; it amused him greatly to piss her off. He was disappointed then when after a few moments of silence Kyle's Mom just let out a sad sigh.

"Goodbye Eric. Take care of yourself."

Cartman heard her click off the phone just as he heard the front door close. Blinking, he took two giant steps over to the door and through the window saw his mother bounce happily off to her book club.

"Oi!" he yelled when he opened the door," not even a goodbye?"

Liane turned and waved at him, "Night night Sweetums."

As she walked away Cartman did not bother to tell her she was to pick up a bottle of wine. It meant that it was more likely his mother could come home sober for once. He was about to close the door again when someone skated into his line of sight. The Mini-Jew as Cartman had named him.

For a few moments he watched eleven year old Ike Broflovski go soaring past on his skateboard. The boy popped a large bubble of gum when he turned his head to regard Cartman and then disappeared behind a hedge.

"Damn Jews are out to get me today," Cartman muttered, moving over the window and lifting up the curtain.

The Mini-Jew was back. As if he knew about how Cartman had just talked to her mother, Ike skated right over Cartman's nice, tidy lawn, the wheels cutting into the ground. He heard him giggle as he attempted to jump over a plant pot.

"Hey!" Cartman balled his fat fists.

He thought for a minute then a cold smirk ran across his face.

"Momma, there's a Jew on da lawn," Cartman put on his best red neck voice. To listeners it was no different to his normal voice but to him it was hysterical. "Best get ma hose and ma digging shovel."

Cartman went into his back yard and picked up the end of the hose, grabbing a shovel on his way past. He held the hose behind his back as he walked along the side of his house to front, watching Ike perform tricks on his front lawn.

"You know, Ike, I don't pay Kenny five bucks an hour to mow my lawn for disgusting little mini-Jews like you to mess it up again."

Ike stopped and popped another bubble, the pink gum sticking to the sides of his face.

Ike was never going to be as tall as his older brother but he like Kyle had rather odd hair. While Kyle's was red and very curly, Ike's own was completely black and stuck up in little spikes all around his head. Kyle would bounce back up if you knocked him down because of his curls. With Ike you could aerate the lawn. It just gave him another reason to despise the two young men and their stupid hair.

"Oh lighten up you douche bag," Ike smiled pleasantly, crossing his arms over his blue shirt, one foot coming off his skateboard.

Still holding the hose behind his back, Cartman half linked his arm with Ike's, difficult when he was still holding the shovel.

"You're not going to like this Ike, but you see, whenever little mini-Jews like you piss me off I kill them and turn them into chilli."

"Nah, I wouldn't make nice chilli. I'm Canadian. We go better with Chinese food you know."

Cartman frowned. Ike was not being serious and he could tell by the way he grinned up at the fat boy. He silently reflected that Kyle was an awful influence on Ike; Kyle would have made a similar comment at his age. It was not Ike's fault that he was a Broflovski. He was adopted. But that did not mean he'd pardon Ike for his crimes against the fat ass.

"Well, just for you Ike, I'll make Chinese food this time. But the whole killing then eating process has many steps to it, to prepare the meal if you will."

"Steps?" Ike looked rather nervous.

"Yes, you and your whole family require a completely new step. You are all unfortunately Jewish and the thick stinky goo that sticks to your skin will make me throw up."

"We are not covered in goo!" Ike protested.

"I don't enjoy throwing up Ike. I don't see the point of it. I come home and have myself a potpie and some cheesy poofs but your brother Kyle passes on some Dick Cheney disease to me and I leave half of the food in the toilet. It's a terrible waste."

Ike was trying to pull away now as Cartman began to lead him into his back garden.

"Stop! You're not being serious! You can't just kill people and then eat them Cartman!"

"Oh no? Ask Scott Tenorman."

Ike yelled and started to struggle, knocking the shovel out of Cartman's hand. Cartman held onto him with one arm, easier now without the shovel. It was only meant to intimidate the boy anyway.

"I told you that there are some steps. The new step just for the Broflovskis is cleaning the food."

Ike knew what was coming and was out of Cartman's arms just as Cartman turned on the hose. The fat boy sprayed the boy all over, soaking him to the skin. Spluttering against the water Ike tried to escape back to the front lawn, his baggy trousers heavy and drenched with water. He did not even bother looking for his skateboard, barely able to see and his hair now flattened by Cartman's attack.

Cartman followed behind, his foot steps shaking the ground and announcing his presence like an incoming tank. He held the hose out in front of him triumphantly, the arch of water hitting Ike like incoming missiles. He did not care that Ike yelled out, Jesus Christ himself could hear and it wouldn't matter. Jesus Christ did actually hear all the way from his house but he just rolled his eyes and went back to tending to his petunias.

Ike broke into a run, escaping Cartman's lawn and racing down the street. Cartman followed. It was a long hose but he would probably have to stop at some point. Ike disappeared behind a hedge, running across other people's gardens. Cartman, now quite wet himself launched through a hedge and soaked the black haired little person that stood in front of him.

But that black haired little person was not Ike Broflovski. Her purple beret was now askew and her long dark hair hung limp at either sides of her face. Her purple top also was completely soaked and the girl stood there just dripping onto her shoes. With her mascara running, Wendy Testaburger's face contorted into one of absolute hatred. She balled her fists and glared up at Eric. His heart gave a horrible painful thump as he saw what he had done.

"Oh hey... ho."

"I'm going to kill you one of these days Eric Cartman! I swear to God, I will!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **You lawyers are nothing but bullies. I'm telling my Mum on you! This chapter includes rather mature content so no underage people please.

Well Broflovski fan (big teasing smirk) I added something into this chapter just for you. You'll find it in the fourth paragraph and I'm sure you will be very, very pleased about its addition! If you liked Kyle before then you certainly will now! And I included one of your graphic…expressions LOL

I included the song Don't Hate Me (Because I'm Beautiful) by Nerf Herder in this chapter because listening to the Baseketball soundtrack on my MP3 player it totally hit me that this was Cartman's song! I mean it. Just listen to it! It's cruel, vicious, vindictive, arrogant and disgustingly truthful. I defy anyone to listen to it and say that it's not the ideal Cartman song (except for the fact that he should be banned from wearing leather pants (shudder)). The song in the last chapter was also from Baseketball, it's called Tonight and it's sung by Deep Blue Something. Hope it fitted.

Happy reading! (This is the second chapter in as many days and I'm not posting anymore till I get more reviews so there!)

**Chapter Four**

Kyle Broflovski was sitting on Eric Cartman's face.

But no matter what way Kenny tried to look at it, it was not attractive.

"Kyle! Seriouslah!" Cartman's voice was muffled under Kyle's ass, "It smells down hyah!"

Kyle's reading glasses were balanced precariously at the end of his nose. His ass was currently covering Cartman's face while both his knees pinned down his arms, facing down towards Cartman's feet. Eric Cartman was going nowhere.

"Did you, or did you not, threaten my little brother with your home made chilli!"

Kyle was the only one of the boys with the size advantage and the sheer balls to do this to someone like Eric. He had been doing an essay on Hamlet and was helping Stan figure out some of the monologues when Ike had burst into his house, dripping water all over the floor and chattering almost hysterically that Cartman was going to eat him. In two minutes Kyle had marched over to Cartman's house, Stan following behind trying not to laugh. Kenny had been walking home after detention for stripping and he had stopped in his tracks when he noticed Kyle looking very angry (and very attractive in that particular mood), storming over to Eric's house.

"It was Chinese food! And I wasn't going to eat him!" Eric feet kept scissor kicking the air, as if the force of his legs would jolt Kyle and make him lose his balance. The only thing he dislodged were Kyle's glasses which fell onto the floor beside Cartman.

"I'll fucking kill you if you threaten him again," Kyle punched Eric in the stomach, the fatter boy gasping for air and choking on Kyle's ass.

Stan had shoved one of his gloves into his mouth and one hand was holding his sides while his best friend took his revenge on Cartman, trying not to die from the laugher. Kenny sat beside Stan on the sofa and was studying the two boys in front of him with a frown.

Usually the sight of two men posed just like that might have turned Kenny on, leading to a quick trip to the bathroom for some toilet roll. But he turned his neck to the side, and then the other, blinked a couple of times and felt…nothing. The scene was not attractive in any shape or form. And it wasn't because of Cartman's lard ass or anything like that. It just felt…wrong. It felt wrong to think of them like that.

Kenny scratched the side of his head through his hood, trying to figure out what was wrong with the scene. Stan's eye on the other hand was drawn to a purple beret sitting on the coffee table beside the sofa.

"Hey dude, check it out. Looks like Wendy was here."

Stan picked it up and turned the item of clothing over and over in his hands, recognising the feel, the sight, even the smell of it. He held it out in front of Kenny.

"Dude. This is Wendy's."

Kenny turned away from the fighting pair back to Stan and grinned, "Cool dude. Looks like Cartman finally scored."

Stan went very pale and he nearly dropped the beret, "Cartman? You can't be serious."

"Totally fancies the pants off her."

"No way!"

"Now Stan my friend," Kenny slipped an arm around Stan's shoulders as if to comfort him (but being totally honest he was looking to feel him up a little). "You and Wendy are one of those off-and-on again couples. Are you not currently "off" with Wendy?"

"Yeah…so…but…"

"Well that makes her a free range chick now doesn't it? Eric can go for her all he likes and you can't do a damn thing Stan."

"But she's my girlfriend."

"Not this month she isn't," Kenny ran a finger up and down Stan's spine.

Stan wriggled away from him, red and annoyed, "Kenny, next time I cut your damn hands off."

"Don't you dare, don't you even think of threatening Ike again! Do you hear me fat ass?" Kyle voice invaded their conversation for a moment.

"No, it's kinda hard when your head's under someone's ass!" Cartman yelled up Kyle's butt.

Stan went into another fit of laughter, "Dude, I think Kyle's gonna suffocate Cartman."

"Oh that's good," Kenny shrugged," Gives me someone to visit when I take my trips down to hell."

Kenny blinked again a couple of times, "Does what they're doing turn you on, Stan?"

Stan stopped laughing and his eyes opened wide, "Dude! No!"

"Was only asking. Jeez. I just meant if you were homosexual do you think this pose would be in anyway attractive? I've seen it before but for some reason it just doesn't feel right with those two."

"Well duh, they hate each other Kenny. Where have you been for the past decade?"

No, it was not the fact that Kyle and Cartman hated each other that the scene seemed wrong. Kenny sat for a moment regarding his two friends. Kyle, tall and skinny with one hell of a temper and an IQ to match. Cartman, tall and fat with one hell of a temper and a sadistic stretch to match. The boys looked nothing alike. Kyle had red hair and blue eyes. Cartman had brown hair and brown eyes. It was not like they were related or anything.

Cartman began to shake all over as if he was having a fit and finally successfully jolted Kyle off of his face. Kyle rolled over and landed near Cartman's sofa where Kenny and Stan were sitting but he did not have a moment to gain his bearings. Cartman was on Kyle in a second, wrapping his chubby arms around Kyle's neck, one set of knuckles rubbing into Kyle's scalp.

"Cartman! Get off me you asshole," Kyle pulled himself up onto his knees and tried to punch Cartman's stomach.

"Do you think we should break them up?" Kenny asked Stan.

"Nah let's watch. Ten bucks for Kyle winning."

"Dude, I don't have ten bucks," he had given the hundred dollars from Craig to his mother who went on a shopping spree in Wal-Mart. Kenny's sneakers were now new but they had no designer label. Kenny did not mind. He just enjoyed the bounciness of new sneakers.

Kenny slid off of the sofa and picked up Kyle's glasses before they could be crushed under Cartman. He placed them on the coffee table next to Wendy's beret. But he did not sit down again beside his friend. With a twinkle in his eye and a playful wink, Kenny headed upstairs to investigate the bedroom of one Liane Cartman. Her son was currently busy with his most hated rival. He would never notice that Kenny was missing.

Kenny's footsteps were light and undetectable as he made his way up the stairs, his sneakers stifling any sound he might have made. When he reached her room he opened the door just a crack and peered in. When he was satisfied that he would not be getting caught anytime soon, Kenny slid into the room and closed the door halfway so he could hear if anyone had followed him.

Liane's room was a glorious shade of pink. Both innocent and slightly alluring, the shade of pink was on everything from the bed covers to the carpet. Kenny breathed in the pink and smiled to him, picking up the wonderful and unique scent of a woman.

Kenny stood in the middle of the room, looking at her double bed and her vanity table, all sorts of little bottles and compact cases littering the surface of the wood. He bent over to look at each bottle. There was make-up remover and nail varnish, mascara and perfume. There was even some lubricant which looked half empty, the cap off and the tube pressed in all around the sides.

"Oh how naughty Mrs Cartman," Kenny pretended to be horrified and tip-toed over to the wardrobe. Gripping the cool metal handles, he opened the doors slowly. He was a little disappointed by the contents. Looking through the clothes there was nothing he had not seen before. All of her little sweaters and skirts and trousers. Kenny felt the material of what appeared to be a cashmere sweater and took a few moments to glory in its softness. He had never felt anything so soft and delicate before. All of her shoes were lined up neatly along the bottom of the wardrobe. She had nice conservative heels and quite a few pairs of provocative stiletto shoes.

It was when he went to close the wardrobe that he noticed the corset and suspenders hanging from the inside of the door. Kenny pushed the doors shut and then hesitatingly he opened them again. Mrs Cartman was in the possession of an extremely sexy corset. It was red but had black fringing lining the seams and outlining where all of the corset wires existed under the material. The laces in the back were also black and there were little diamantes decorating the front and sides in little hearts and diamonds. The suspender belt was similar and hung off the hanger lopsided as if the outfit had recently been worn. Kenny was tempted to smell the material but was able to stop himself in time.

The thought of it though, of her wearing that, made Kenny's trousers rather tight and difficult to wear.

"Dammit. Not so soon. I'm not finished."

There was no way he could do anything about it here. Cartman in his own weird way would be able to tell that he had been up to something if he did. So Kenny did his best to ignore the hard on and pondered his situation.

If you knew someone who was a hermaphrodite where would be the evidence to prove their circumstances? Surprisingly it took Kenny a few minutes to realise that the most likely of places would be the underwear drawers. And Mrs Cartman had the treasure trove of underwear drawers.

"Oh Jesus, son of Mary, stepson of Joseph, Holy Spirit and all the saints and angels of Heaven!" Kenny cried out as he plunged his hands into her underwear drawer. So many thongs and bras! So much satin and silk! So many lace things he did not know the name of but loved the minute he saw them. He was on the verge of creaming himself just standing there, his hands frolicking around in his best friend's mother's underwear drawer.

"Oh Liane!" Kenny held up a pair of lilac lace panties, his hands shaking, "I swear eternal service to you, forever and ever, Amen."

He held that pair for a couple minutes more. Again he was tempted.

"Kenny," he warned himself, "Don't smell the underwear. Do not smell the underwear. Do NOT smell the underwear!"

Kenny pushed the article of clothing back into the drawer quickly. Everything in this drawer was lady underwear. There were no boxers or male briefs. There was absolutely nothing to suggest that Liane still had a penis hiding in her undies.

It was while he pushed the underwear back into place that his fingers grazed along a box. The material was obviously cardboard and Kenny looked towards the door and listened out for intruders before removing the box from the drawer.

Then he nearly dropped it. Kenny's voice had not been so high pitched and squeaky since he was twelve but what he had in his hands at that moment robbed him of all of his composure.

The Rampant Rabbit Thruster.

"Fuck me," Kenny wished as he turned the box over and over in his hands. There were little diagrams decorating the box and several slogans that almost had Kenny in an orgasm right there.

"Just when you thought the rabbit couldn't get any better, along comes the Thruster. Unlike any other rabbit, the beads in the shaft actually thrust up and down, so you get an amazing penetrating experience," Kenny read aloud from the box, shaking and shivering.

"There are 5 thrust speeds, from gentle to jiggy and those trademark buzzy ears stimulate your clit with 4 orgasmic settings! This amazing vibe feels just like a man...only better!"

Kenny fell back on the bed, a wide grin on his face. He pulled open the box to gaze in wonder at its contents. The vibrator was light blue and slightly large and exaggerated like all sex toys. The only dicks he had seen that were this particular shade of blue were diseased and Kenny wondered about the sanity and life choices of the designers. The rabbit too was blue and curved around from the main body of the toy. Kenny could not help but finger its ears excitedly.

"Oh to be where you have been Bugs," Kenny turned it on.

It was rather loud and he got a fright when the penis shaped side started throbbing back and forth in his head and the rabbit took a seizure.

"Holy shit!" Kenny struggled to turn it off but it only vibrated harder, a low hum seeming to invade the room.

"Turn off! Turn off! Turn off!" the rabbit now seemed to be doing a little dance, vibrating slowly for a minute then speeding up. It would stop for a moment and then speed up again. The penis end was throbbing like a man about to have an orgasm and it felt very odd in Kenny's hands. Cartman was going to catch him. Cartman was going to kill him.

"Please turn off," Kenny pleaded with the rabbit and once again played with the buttons. The whole toy started shuddering violently in his hands and it leapt out of his hands, falling off the bed and clattering very loudly off the floor.

Cartman was going to kill him.

Kenny dived for the vibrator and pressed it against his belly, pleading to all the gods he had ever heard of to make the bloody thing shut up. There was a loud crash from downstairs and the hairs on the back of Kenny's neck stood on end as he waited for the thump-thump-thump of Eric climbing the stairs. But there was nothing but another crash and a few muffled groans. It sounded almost like Stan. He wondered if Stan had finally snapped over the beret. There was a three way fight going on downstairs and Kenny was very annoyed at himself and the vibrator for not being part of it.

"Damn you! Shut up" Kenny hit all of the buttons in rapid succession and the vibrator shuddered to a stop. Sighing he held the now silent but vicious plaything to his chest, sending his thank you to all the choirs of Angels and Mormons singing songs about why sex was bad.

The battle was over. Kenny had won. He tossed the offending toy back in its box and threw it back in the drawer, not caring where it ended up. Liane would probably never notice that it had been tampered with unless it was broken. But there was no chance in hell that Kenny was going to press a button to find out if it was broken. He was actually quite pleased with this result. If Cartman's Mom had a fancy vibrator like that then it was highly likely that she did not have a penis.

However, douche bags like Craig might argue that Liane did not use it herself and that she left it for the pleasure of her female visitors. Or even that she used the lubricant to insert it rectally. Both were options but the rabbit was rendered useless when the other part was placed up the ass. No, this sort of vibrator was for personal use and Kenny would stake his new trainers on the fact that she probably used it often.

Well, now Kenny had two bits of evidence to present to his "employers". Firstly the complete absence of male underwear and her abundance of saucy lady panties. Secondly, the existence of the violent, blue vibrator and the lubricant. Both points added very little to his belief that Liane had a vaginaplasty but it might settle the doubts of Craig and the others for a little bit longer

There was another crash from downstairs.

Kenny could hear someone singing from downstairs and he silently applauded with relief that it was Eric.

"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful! Don't hate me for being the best! Don't hate me for being the champion! Just love me like all the rest… do."

Kenny tightened the rim of his hood to hide his face a little more as he headed down the stairs. Eric had stopped singing but was now reciting the Nerf Herder lyrics like a vicious poem and it became evident that Stan had got involved in the fight.

"Stan, seriouslah. Don't be angry when I'm dancing with your girlfriend. Just be happy she touched me for one night."

"You go anywhere near Wendy and I'll kick your ass," Stan sounded like he could barely breathe and with very good reason.

Eric was sitting on poor Stan's chest and his hands were around Kyle's throat, throttling the life out of the unfortunate daywalker. Kenny watched from the door.

"If you guys were going to fight then you should have invited me. How very rude!" Kenny pretended to be offended and feel left out.

"Shut up Kenny," Eric pressed harder on Kyle's throat. Kyle struggled, digging his fingernails into Cartman's hands in an attempt to get free. He even drew blood as he dug his fingers in but Cartman did not budge.

"Who is winning?"

All three pairs of eyes flicked up to Kenny as if the answer was obvious. Kenny smiled pleasantly and took a running dive at his friends, knocking Cartman off of Stan's chest. Stan stopped to gain his breath before all four boys started rough housing. They were supposed to be too big and too mature for this sort of behaviour but Kenny loved it. He did not mind getting kicked in the chest by Kyle, smacked in the jaw by Eric or squashed by Stan. He spent most of the fight laughing.

The fight only ended when Kyle aimed through his one good eye (the other now swollen shut by Stan accidentally hitting him instead of Kenny) and punched Cartman right on the nose. Blood started running down Eric face and all four boys fell down on the carpet, their manly, aggressive urges sated for a little while.

"That was fun!" Kenny declared, "We haven't done that for a while!"

"Kenny you have a warped sense of what is fun."

"Shut up Kyle."

Kyle kicked Kenny from his position on the carpet. Kenny kicked him back.

"Stop it you bunch of gaywads," Eric groaned holding his nose.

"Cartman, why do you always call people gay? You trying to cover something up?" Kyle asked with a smirk.

"God hates gay people. That's why he smote the Sodomies in France."

"No I think you mean Sodom and Gomorrah."

"Hey, I thought Gomorrah was a sexual disease," Cartman wiped his face with his sleeve, "Like you got Gomorrah if you were into sodomy."

"That's gonorrhea you idiot!" Kyle snorted.

"Speaking of sexual diseases," Kenny looked in Eric's direction, "Tell me exactly why you are in the possession one purple beret belonging to a certain Wendy Testaburger?"

"I got her all wet when I chased Ike with the hose. I let her clean herself up in my house."

"And she left it behind _accidentally_?" Stan asked in disbelief.

"Not exactly."

"Eric, you don't need to go around stealing her hat," Kenny told him reassuringly, "I was beginning to think you had scored."

"Nah, the hippie bitch is frigid. Probably the fault of her last boyfriend."

"Fuck you Cartman!" Stan was back up on his feet, about to dive at Cartman.

But Kenny acted first and he grabbed the beret and stuffed it down the front of his pants.

"Kenny!" Both exclaimed in unison.

"We're going to prove who deserves Wendy more. The dude that removes her hat from my pants wins Wendy and a thousand nights of good loving. From me or her, whatever you fancy."

To his surprise and his disappointment, neither Stan nor Cartman took up his offer.

Both wanted the beret but neither was willing to go feeling around down there to get it!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or Hamlet (although I wish I did)

Alright folks, sure there's a little Shakespeare in this one but it's needed for later chapters (the whole symbolism, linking up stuff) and also I liked how a couple of lines could fit in with the story. For the sake of the story I've taken out some of the "thou"'s and words that are too ye olde English because not everyone did Shakespeare and it can be difficult to understand.

Before people flame me for making too many British or English jokes I am actually British (I come from Glasgow) and it's kinda fun for me to make fun of my own country. The teacher Mrs Spinks is based on my own English teacher who was absolutely wonderful to me and used to get giddy over Shakespeare in class, especially if someone pointed out something she had never noticed before. Her enthusiasm has made Hamlet my favourite play despite some of its more awkward situations so I'm making fun of the disgusting things that scholars say about Hamlet and just hope people can follow along.

Happy Reading!

**Chapter Five**

"Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here," Stan was flicking through his book, disbelief written on his face, "they honestly can't teach this sort of thing in school."

Kyle was skimming over his own book, resting his head on one hand, his glasses slightly crooked.

"I'm telling you Stan, Hamlet's fucked up because he doesn't like to think of his Mom as a sexual being."

"Nuh uh."

"Yeah huh. Act One, Scene Two. He has an entire monologue where he totally freaks out over his Mom getting married to his uncle. In those days marrying one of your in-laws was considered incest."

"It's wrong dude, just wrong," Stan's face had went an unsightly shade of green.

"I don't get you sometimes Stan," Kyle looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye, "Roller coasters, waltzers, too much pizza and you don't throw up. When something sexual or feminine comes along you chuck up all over the place."

"I don't think I like this play," Stan threw his book away, placing one hand on his stomach.

"Well, we're studying it for the rest of the year. Twenty per cent of our grade is just on this play. And you're not copying my essay this time."

"Aww come on Kyle," Stan was hopeless at English and only got by because Kyle was there to help him.

"No, Mrs. Spinks was too suspicious last time," Kyle told him, barely looking up from his book, "You can use my notes but you're not seeing my essay."

"Well fine, but when I fail, drop out, get addicted to drugs, get some underage girl pregnant, knock a guy down when I'm drink driving and then shoot myself in the head you are going to feel pretty bad Kyle."

"I'm sure I will," Kyle had absolutely no sympathy.

Stan stared at his best friend for a moment.

He then jumped up from his seat and wrapped his arms around Kyle, nearly knocking him out of his chair. He rested his head on the top of Kyle's and put on a sad little voice.

"Oh please, please, please Kyle can you help me with this awful, nasty play?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. I suck at English. It's stupid; I don't get it at all. You can't just read the words; you have to see all these sick and twisted ideas behind it, all this bloody stupid symbolism."

"It's just Shakespeare Stan. It's not like you have to decipher a speech by George Bush," Kyle pulled away from Stan, looking at the librarian who was staring at them with suspicion, "And don't cuddle me in public. You'll have people thinking I'm gay."

"Kyle, of all the people in the entire world I'd only be gay with you," Stan smirked, enjoying annoying Kyle.

"That's nice," Kyle snorted," You're spending too much time with Kenny."

"I'm just fucking with you dude. Don't be so serious."

"I can't believe Cartman's getting higher marks than me in this," Kyle threw away his book as well and it somersaulted onto the floor. The librarian tutted in distaste to see books being treated that way. "There's no way he can be getting an A. He must be cheating."

"You're just pissed off because you got a B," Stan rolled his eyes.

"Yeah but how can Cartman get an A in English?" Kyle protested loudly. "He can barely speak English never mind study it!"

"He's using notes off of the internet. Everyone is except you and me dude because you won't let me."

"If he quotes Shylock to me one more time I'm gonna scream," Kyle tore at his hat.

Kyle Broflovski was one of those straight A students that freaked out a little if their grades started to slip. His little brother was supposed to be a genius and so Kyle had worked his whole life to show he was just as, or perhaps even smarter than Ike. He had top grades in every class except English because the teacher had moved them onto Shakespeare. And Kyle did not want to admit it but he did not have a clue what half of it meant. He spent most of the Merchant of Venice trying to wing it, picking out random descriptions and rambling about what they may have meant.

Kyle bit down on a pen in frustration while Stan looked over Kyle's rather vague notes. If he was having problems then he had no idea how Stan was going to cope. But Stan was perfectly happy just cruising with his usual B's and C's. He did not have to go home and listen to his mother talk about how wonderfully smart his brother was.

"Hey gaywads, you coming to class?" Cartman's voice made Kyle jump a little.

"In a second."

"Oh my God," Cartman leaned over Kyle's shoulder, "you guys are still on Act One? I'm on Act Three!"

"You're cheating Cartman!" Kyle balled his fists and the pen started cracking a little under the pressure.

"No I'm not," Eric Cartman actually looked rather offended.

"You're using notes off of the internet! You are cheating! I can tell; you're too stupid to understand Shakespeare! How the hell are you getting A's?"

"Well, I looked at the situation logically Kyle," Cartman pulled his backpack off his shoulder and placed it on the floor beside his feet. "Shakespeare was English right?"

"Yeah, so?" Stan narrowed his eyes at Cartman.

"Well, I just went out and temporarily kidnapped the only English person I knew. Pip didn't really understand a lot of the language either at first but he dug deep into his pussy English hardware and we figured it out together. I kidnap him once every week to go over the different scenes."

"You're an asshole Cartman," Kyle could not exactly explain why he was so angry at him. It was hard enough to lose out to Ike without Cartman whipping his ass too.

Cartman took on a dramatic flair but his eyes were still coldly amused. He began to quote from Act Three Scene One, taking pleasure in the fact that Kyle probably would not have a clue what he was talking about.

"Get thee to a nunnery Kyle: why would you be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in."

"Wow dude!" Stan's eyebrows went right up into his hat, "You know all that by heart?"

"Well if you douches actually understood the language then you'd know all the plays are about sex and violence. Some of it is quite bad ass and perverted. It's just the flowery, prissy language that makes it seem totally gay."

"Could you give me a hand Cartman?" Stan began to stand up, gathering up his things, "I don't understand what's going on."

"Stan!" Kyle protested, feeling rather upset.

"It's just a big soap opera. There's nothing to understand," Cartman shrugged his shoulders, "I mean I'd go a bit fucked up too if my Uncle murdered my Dad and then started fucking my Mother. But I'd get my revenge quicker than Hamlet. He's such a pussy little asshole. He thinks too much, "Cartman knocked all of Kyle's books onto the floor, "just like Jew boy here."

"At least I have morals," Kyle bent over to pick up his things when Cartman dropped a book right on top of his head.

"Jews have no morals dude. Don't you remember the Merchant of Venice? Shylock was pretty fucked up."

"Cartman…I swear to God…"

"So Kyle," Cartman grinned, "Shall we see if Jews do bleed when you prick them? Or die when we poison them?"

"Nah," Stan tried to break up the argument, standing between the two young men "But Shylock was right about something. They giggle when you tickle them."

Stan wiggled his fingers at Kyle who slid back from him a little bit, "Don't tickle me dude. I'm too pissed off."

"Nah," Stan smiled at him, "Come on Cartman, let's all tickle Kyle and see if he giggles."

Kyle broke into a run, barely able to balance all of his books and pens in his arms and Stan took off after him. The librarian shouted in protest and everyone else studying glared at them as they soared past. Cartman on the other hand just groaned and after picking up his bag he followed the pair at a more respectable distance.

Mrs. Spinks, their English teacher, was a rather eccentric lady with hair the colour of pepper and glasses that made her eyes look bigger than they really were. Her clothing was as eccentric as her personality. She wore a wool waistcoat with black leggings and flowery Doc Martin sturdy boots but her outward appearance did not have the endearing eccentricity that her love of Shakespeare did. Shakespeare was her favourite dramatist and she was already overcome with excitement as her students filed into the room. Even when Kyle and Stan almost knocked over her lectern she just smiled, happily thinking to herself that the English playwright must have captured their imaginations.

"Alright class," her unusually cheery voice filled the room, having to make it louder to cover up Kyle's squeals. He was being tickled by Stan but rather than yell at them for disturbing the class she ignore them and tried to capture everyone's attention. "Has everyone prepared their monologues?"

A rumbling groan was her reply as everyone took out their copies of Hamlet. Reading aloud was rather difficult and she understood how terrifying it could be to read out to the class. For that reason she never asked Butters who had appeared to have an epileptic fit when he shook and shivered his way through his own rather unique version of Shylock's speech.

She could never bring herself to ask Jimmy either. It would have been a travesty of the highest order.

"To b-b-b…. To b-bay….to be or not t-t-t-to be. That is the quay……that is the quai….. That is the question!"

Mrs. Spinks shuddered at the very idea.

"Now I know that you don't enjoy reading in front of the class but it is rather crucial of your understanding of the play. Shakespeare is not meant to be read, but performed," she clapped her hands together, "And you'll be particularly fascinated at how different everyone interprets the words. Some may read slowly, some may read fast. Others obviously won't have a clue what they are saying –much like Mel Gibson's version of Hamlet."

"Oi!" Cartman snorted at the back of the room.

"But I'm not here to bitch about Mel "Look-Ma-I'm-Doing-Shakespeare" Gibson's version of the play so can we have a few volunteers?"

As always there was complete silence in the room. A few of the students found the floor the most fascinating thing in the universe whereas others stared out of the window as if they were contemplating time and space and the existence of Marklars. This of course made Mrs. Spinks a rather disappointed person, inwardly fuming that her students did not find the variations of interpretation an absolutely fascinating subject.

"If people don't start putting up hands then I'll be calling you all out one at a time."

Stan and Kyle knocked their pencils onto the ground in unison, ducking out of Mrs. Spinks's line of sight. The only student to meet her eye was surprisingly Eric Cartman. She nodded towards the lectern but Eric shook his head at her. She gestured with her head again but Eric Cartman folded his arms across his chest unamused.

"Eric, thank you so much for volunteering," the English teacher sounded very merry through clenched teeth.

"Hey, I didn't volunteer. I was going to ask if I could go to the bathroom. I need to take a dump."

Mrs. Spinks shuddered at his use of words, "Shakespeare first. Dump later."

"Aww weak. Why can't Pip go first? He's an English piece of crap. It's his culture, make him go first," Cartman huffed, not entirely prepared to head to the front of the room.

"Erm Mrs. Spinks," Pip put his hand up but he smirked in Cartman's direction, "I think Eric's interpretation would help further my own understanding of the play."

"Yeah mine too," Stan snickered. Kyle sat just grinning into his own copy of the play.

"Well that settles it," Mrs. Spinks smiled, pleased that everyone had a little more enthusiasm now, even if the extra energy was dedicated to Cartman having to make a fool of himself. "Eric Cartman, front and centre. Now."

"Weak," Cartman pulled his heavy form out of his chair and walked to the front, tugging hard on one of Pip's earrings as he passed. The young British youth just groaned and rubbed his sore earlobe.

"I'll be reading Hamlet's monologue from Act One Scene Two," Cartman mumbled into his book, "cause it's like got cool disgusting phrases and he's all pissed off because his Mom is a whore and his uncle became king instead of him."

"Hey," Kyle nudged Stan's elbow, "this is the one I told you about. You want a sick-bag before you start?"

"Eric, you have to speak loud and proud," Mrs. Spinks told him, "Make the class feel your pain."

"When I go to hell the first thing I'm going to do is kick Shakespeare in the nuts and then tear his fucking head off, make him feel my pain," Cartman cleared his throat.

"_Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fixed His cannon against self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on it! Ah fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature possess it merely."_

Kyle's eyes widened and Stan sat up a little bit in his chair. Cartman was actually quite good. He spoke slowly and purposefully, disgust shading his voice as the character despaired at how horrible the world had become after his father's death. He made it seem very clear to them both that Hamlet did not simply know how to live in a world full of such corruption and despair. How could there be any hope for the future when even his own mother was incapable of decency?

And even more difficult, how could you ever stomach the fact that your mother had gone and married your uncle less than two months after the death? Were they having an affair before the death? Had Claudius taken advantage of Queen Gertrude's pain? Or was his mother just some whore who married the next man she could find when the death of the king meant she was no longer queen? Cartman's voice got louder and angrier as Hamlet's rage attacked his mother's fickleness.

"_Frailty, thy name is woman! A little month, or ere those shoes were old with which she followed my poor father's body like Niobe, all tears…why she, even she… O, God! A beast that wants discourse of reason would have mourned longer! Married with my uncle? My father's brother…but no more like my father than I to Hercules: within a month? Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears had left the flushing in her galled eyes… she married."_

Cartman paused for a few seconds, almost for dramatic effect. When he started to recite again his voice was softer but no less emotional. Hamlet had trusted his mother. And perhaps his uncle as well. With his father dead there was no one to help him escape the filthy and sinful world he found himself in.

"_O, most wicked speed, to post with such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not, nor it cannot, come to good: but break my heart; for I must hold my tongue."_

The whole class was silent. They were in shock. Not only had Cartman read the monologue so well but he had read most of it without even looking at the pages, like he understood exactly how difficult it was to stomach a loved one's misbehaviour. Almost like he too had been cheated out of a future because of his mother and her untrustworthy lovers.

Mrs. Spinks was the first to make any sort of sound and when she finally did it was more of a cry, "Oh Eric. Eric. That was wonderful!"

"Whatever dudes," Cartman broke the spell and hurried back to his seat. But the teacher was still captivated.

"Oh if only I was the drama teacher. You would be my Hamlet Eric!"

Eric the temporary Dane looked quite scared at her reaction and slid down his seat.

"Oh I doubt any of you other pinheads could beat that response," Mrs. Spinks had went giddy and insulted the class in her excitement," I think we should all pay more attention to this monologue now and see how one person's performance can shape our entire understanding."

"I definitely understand it better," Stan admitted while all of the other students groaned and glared in Cartman's direction. No one enjoyed looking into passages too deeply. They were all very grateful to escape Mrs. Spinks's excitement when the bell finally rang. Cartman was the first to stand up, looking like he was about to run away.

"Oh, and Eric!" Mrs. Spinks called out after him as he tried to leave the room, "I would suggest reading A Comedy of Errors. It's about a pair of twins who are separated as babies and then get hysterically mistaken for each other all over town. You'll love it!"

But Cartman had already gone, moving as fast as his fat legs could carry him, seemingly terrified by Mrs. Spinks's reaction to him.

"Well that explains why Cartman is doing better in English than you," Stan seemed almost sympathetic as they wandered to their lockers, "He, like, understands the characters and understanding the characters means you understand the whole thing."

Kyle stopped beside his locker and banged his head softly against the metal, feeling utterly stupid and utterly mad.

"No, no, no," Stan pulled him away before he could bang his head again," What do we do when we're pissed off Kyle?"

"Not here in the hallway."

Stan almost scolded him, "You know it's the only way you're going to feel better."

"I'm not going to sing!"

"Do the happy dance Kyle," Stan grabbed Kyle's arms and made them wave from side to side.

"I'm not singing the song!"

"Sing for me, bitch," Stan snickered.

With his face as red as his hair, Kyle began to wave his hands from side to side. His voice was soft and you could barely hear him singing but Stan stood there almost satisfied. After a few moments he even joined in, standing side by side with Kyle, shaking his arms from side to side a little more enthusiastically.

"We're doing the happy dance. Doing the happy dance," Kyle sang as low as he could.

"Sing up Kyle! We're doing the happy dance!"

"Doing the happy dance!" Kyle yelled. "Doing the happy dance!"

"Doing the happy dance," Stan chanted, "See? Don't you feel so much better now dude?"

"No I feel worse."

"You're obviously just not doing it right," Stan smiled at him, "You need to keep doing it over and over until you get it right."

"I can think of a few things he could do over and over until he gets it right," a sweet voice from Stan's side purred.

There stood Bebe Stevens, one of the hottest girls in the year despite her mass of blonde hair and big boobs. She glided over to Kyle's side and reached up to touch his hair, curling a few strands around her fingers.

"I can't believe you boys still do that awful happy dance," she smiled soothingly up at him. "You have it all wrong."

"What are we doing wrong?" Kyle looked rather bewildered by how close she was standing.

"Well singing and dancing is no good. It's not going to make you feel better."

"Doing the happy dance makes me feel better all the time," Stan interjected, "there's nothing wrong with the happy dance."

"You men are too old for the happy dance. But I have something to cheer you up Kyle," she seemed a little too much like Kenny for her own good but Kyle melted a little.

"Oh really, what?"

Bebe smirked and pulled Kyle's head down to her level. She needed to stand on her tiptoes to do so and Kyle was practically bent double when Bebe took his head and swiftly placed it between her breasts. Stan's eyes popped out of his head. Kyle on the other hand closed his eyes and sighed almost happily.

"Holy shit dude," Stan said sounding a little alarmed.

"She's right, things seem so much better right here," Kyle's voice was very muffled but now sounded very pleased with his situation. A couple of teachers passed and they too looked rather alarmed but Bebe just smiled at them pleasantly and ran a hand soothingly up and down Kyle's back.

Kyle nuzzled her a little between her breasts with his nose, tickling her and making her giggle, just enjoying the warmth and softness of her chest.

"I was right wasn't I?" Bebe grinned, "Nothing cheers up a man more than a pair of boobs."

"Unless they're gay," Stan snorted a little annoyed at the fact that Kyle was now less preoccupied in the happy dance than in the cup size of Bebe's boobs.

He tugged on Kyle's arm.

"Dude, we got Algebra now."

"Nodde, am stadeing ere."

"What? Kyle I can't hear you," he tugged on Kyle again and Bebe frowned at him.

"No dude, I am staying here," Kyle turned his head a little, "I like it here, there's no Cartman."

"Too right there's no Cartman, there's no way he's getting near these bad boys," Bebe chuckled, playing with Kyle's hair.

"Yeah," Kyle felt strangely light hearted now, "Can you sit with me during exams? I might get full marks from here!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I only pay homage to genius. I don't own genius (and genius includes the lovely people like Drucilla Black, animeninjaNIPPON, WolfBane2 and JMcMillan. Thank you guys so much for reviewing. And all hail the new Stan/Kyle Appreciation Club President Broflovskifan. Hail!)

I am so sorry. I'm so absolutely and tremendously sorry. The next few chapters will be entirely devoted to Kenny, back to him and his perverted ways. Honest. I didn't mean this chapter to happen. But the plot bunny that was dressed as Wendy pointed a gun to my head and told me if I didn't write down this idea now then I'd regret it.

And you can't tell me that Wendy and Eric suit one another. Even my Sims 2 game says so. I didn't even push them together but now they're married and Wendy got knocked up (Eric's so happy he even played in the bathtub and he's my least happy/outgoing sim). And so little Liane is born. Oh well. Any more ideas for baby names?

**Chapter 6**

Once upon a time, a man from Space sat down and wrote a song about Wendy Testaburger. The song was titled "Female of the Species" and the writer despaired over his infatuation with the femme fatale.

What, you may ask, was a man from Space doing writing a song about Wendy, especially if he had never met her in the first place?

For asking such a stupid question, Pip would have been happy to inform you that Space was an Indie or alternative rock band from the Brit music revolution of the 1990's and he would have spent a few moments chuckling at your expense. And he would be quite right to laugh. Everyone knows that aliens are incapable of writing songs and astronauts are simply too stupid to compose music.

But the song was for Wendy as she was by far the most intimidating female to wander the halls of Middle Park High. If you met her in the hallway you would have assumed that she was just some other chick. If you knew that she had been Stanley Marsh's girlfriend you would be inclined to believe that she was a kind hearted, sweet girl. If you had heard how much she had campaigned for human and animal rights you might have even believed that she was a sensitive and understanding young woman. And looking at her grades you would have been unable to deny that she was very intelligent.

Wendy could have possessed all of those qualities but yet there was something in her that Kenny did not quite like, nor did he entirely trust. He often felt guilty for how he felt. For all he knew Wendy was a nice girl; just a little misunderstood and controlling. Yet there was just something there, something subtle and deceptive in her whole demeanour. He saw it in her eyes. It was the way she looked at you during a conversation. She was perfectly polite and she rarely said anything nasty. But every so often he saw something a little devious and cunning lurking in her depths, as if she was sizing you up and examining your usefulness.

Maybe he was just a little pissed off that Wendy had never asked him for sex when she broke up with Stan or simply needed to get laid. Wendy was one of the few girls that he had never kissed or got intimate with. And to be entirely honest he was glad that they had not ever gotten that far. Kyle did not like Wendy at all and Stan often complained about how they always fought each other when Stan and Wendy were an item.

But like the man from Space, Eric Cartman was infatuated with Wendy Testaburger.

"Just go talk to her dude," Kenny tried to encourage Eric as they got off of the bus to South Park," She won't bite unless you want her to."

"No, it's alright," Cartman threw a bottle of coke into his bag angrily as he struggled off of the school bus.

Kenny crossed his arms over his chest, "She doesn't hate you that much."

"I know, she almost warmed up to me when I helped her get dry," Cartman ran a hand through his hair, "but she's a no good hippie."

Kenny snorted.

"Wendy isn't a hippie," he scoffed, "she's a bloody terrorist."

Eric glared down at him, "what makes you say that?"

"Well…hippies hang around in tents; smoke dope and wear tie dye clothing. They sit and talk about changing the world for the better but they rarely seem to do anything about it."

Cartman waited for Kenny to get to the point.

"Now, Wendy. Your darling Wendy. If there's a big bad corporation polluting the ocean or a politician passing a policy threatening human rights she is there. But she doesn't, like, need a gun or bombs. She doesn't yell or complain. She tells them to change their ways and hell mend them if they disobey."

"Yeah she kicks ass," Eric said almost wistfully.

There was a pause before Kenny offered a suggestion, "You should ask her out for a pizza or something."

"She'll be busy. I'm just gonna go home and watch TV. Mom's going out with Mr. Mmm-kay again so I can have the house to myself."

"Even better! Go get your fat ass over there and ask her out."

Maybe Eric was still recovering over Mrs. Spinks's reaction to him because he shook his head and looked away from Wendy's lovely form. She had just exited the bus before him and was saying goodbye to Bebe.

"Just be yourself, Eric," Kenny shrugged, part of his hoodie falling away from his face.

"I'm myself all the time and people tell me I'm an asshole."

"Well some girls like assholes. They have a fetish for it like some people have for feet."

"And who exactly has a thing for feet in this school Kenny?" Cartman looked spitefully curious.

"I'll ask her for you if you like," Kenny pretended he had not heard the question.

"Kenny, if you go over and talk to her then I'll castrate you and impale your ass on the flag pole."

"Hey! I wouldn't be asking her out for myself. I'd be asking her for you," Kenny nudged Cartman, "she's only a girl. And if she turns you down it will only sting your pride for a little while."

"No."

Being so small and skinny there was absolutely no way that Kenny could really move the mountain that was Eric Cartman but he made a good effort of it anyway. He dug in his heels and leaned against Cartman, pushing him really hard in Wendy's direction. Cartman pushed back. He was pushed back several metres but Kenny was absolutely determined to get Cartman talking with Wendy. It was the very least he could do considering that he had a bet with the guys over his mom.

And since he did not have the strength to move the mountain, he was going to have to disgust the mountain. He was going to have to get perverted. Overcoming his own revulsion Kenny reached down and with two fingers he nipped Cartman in the ass. Eric jumped almost a foot in the air and with Kenny pushing him he leapt several feet to the side as well. It was a remarkable sight of acrobatics that even made Wendy take notice as Cartman landed not too far away from her.

"What are you doing?" she asked pleasantly in her high pitched voice.

"Later," Kenny whispered in Cartman's ear and patted him reassuringly on the butt. He then whizzed off before Eric could protest.

Wendy did look rather lovely today. Although her purple beret was missing, hidden somewhere in Cartman's house, she had replaced it with a black one. She wore a long purple jumper than stopped halfway down her thigh and her hips were accentuated by a thick black belt. Cartman took a moment to appreciate the curve before he noticed her little black ballerina style shoes peeking out from under her black pants. She was breathtakingly beautiful in her own dark and mysterious way, a sharp contrast to her blonde and bouncy friend Bebe.

It was almost pathetic but Eric Cartman was almost reduced to nothing more than a puddle of a man, stuck for something to say and getting more embarrassed the more she stared at him. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought of something to say.

"Don't do that," Wendy smiled at him sympathetically, "it makes you look nervous."

Cartman looked at his hand and dropped it at his side.

"Did anyone ask you ho?" things were not starting out well.

"Well…no you didn't but compared with this afternoon's performance in English, there's a vast difference in your behaviour," Wendy held a book to her chest and leaned against the side of the bus.

"I swear that teacher gets high before she comes into class. She's a bloody fruitcake. But you… you liked what I read?" Cartman tried his best to sound nonchalant.

"Of course I did. You always were a good orator," she watched him expectantly.

Cartman did not know if she was trying to freak him out or if she was simply puzzled as to why he was talking to her in the first place. They did not exactly hang around in the same groups most of the time. The only thing they had in common was Stan, or perhaps their current dislike of Stan.

"I was wondering…" Cartman tried to choose his words carefully but instead it came out as one word, "doyouwanttocomeforpizza?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want to come for a pizza…with me?"

"You Cartman?" she seemed a little bewildered, "You're asking me out?"

"Not exactly," Eric felt like he had been kicked in the gut. He had not been rejected so early, had he? Perhaps it was a mistake to call her a "ho" all of the time.

"Well what then?"

"It's not a date," his useless heart went into a strop, "is it so extremely fucked up that I might ask some ho like you for some pizza?"

"You might say so," Wendy looked offended and almost prepared to stomp off if he kept this behaviour up.

"We've only just lived in the same town all of our lives, Wendy. We've only just went to same schools, talked with the same people, ate in the same places. We both can't really stand Stan Marsh."

"I do like Stan!" she began to protest but Cartman cut her off.

"We both just go to the same classes and people just find us both just a little bit intimidating, Wendy. Now considering all that and how long we've known each other, is it that impossible that I might consider taking you out for a meal- which I will pay for- in order to catch up and swap stories?"

She hesitated and switched her weight from one foot to another as she considered his argument, "I guess not. But you're not being very polite about it."

"Well…would you like to come and have pizza with me at Whistling Willies, please?"

"You're not plotting some way to hurt Stan are you?"

"I'm not trying to hurt Stan. I swear to God or else Madonna isn't an anorexic old whore."

Wendy almost smiled, "but she is."

"My point exactly," Cartman waited for an answer.

"Ok I'll come. Just pizza?" Cartman nodded an affirmative and they both headed towards the restaurant. It was always busy after school as so many high school students crowded in to bitch about teachers before their parents bitched at them to come home. He was holding the door open for Wendy and was beginning to feel almost good about the situation when a horrible and cruel voice called to him from across the street.

"Going to stuff your face again fat ass?" Craig laughed, "I thought you'd already ate out the fridges of Willies ages ago!"

Cartman was momentarily thankful that Craig did not seem to notice who he was holding the door open for. The last thing he wanted was for Wendy to get abuse as well.

"Hey Cartman! You're so fat that you need a search party to wipe your ass for you!" Craig's little group of friends all laughed. Wendy looked back at Cartman, expecting him to explode and go chasing after the young men. But he didn't.

"Could you take her to a booth please?" Cartman asked the unfortunate server dressed up as Willie and pulled out his cell phone. Wendy looked over her shoulder at him as Willie led her away.

"Hello Officer Barbrady? Yeah hi, this is Eric Cartman. I heard today in school that Craig Nommel is planning to run naked through the old folks' home. Yeah I think he needs a night in the cells. Uh-huh… and maybe you should shock his balls so he won't think about doing it again," he smiled his evil smile to himself, "Yeah, what would the newspapers say if they heard about young perverts giving old people a heart attack? He's hanging around outside Whistling Willie's downtown. Thanks, it would take a lot off of my mind if I knew that scum like him was behind bars, Sir. Thanks."

Cartman disconnected the call and flipped off Craig through the window. He hurried over to Wendy's booth and slid into a seat across from her.

Eric ordered a pizza and fries for them to share, part of him plotting that he could accidentally on purpose touch her fingers that way. Usually Cartman could put away twice that amount but he was in female company and he had to pretend to be civilized. Stuffing his face full of pepperoni would not impress Wendy. She'd most likely run off back into the arms of Stan and there was no way that gay wad was getting another chance with her.

"I'll have the five dollar chocolate milkshake," Wendy told Whistling Willie, "extra ice cream, extra syrup?"

"Five dollars?" Cartman scoffed, his wallet protesting loudly at a pitch only he could hear.

"It's great," Wendy smiled over her menu, studying him. She then flicked her eyes back up the waiter, "And he'll have one too."

"I hate to sound like a tight fisted Jew but five dollars is a bit much for a blob of ice cream."

Whistling Willie lowered his head a little bit in Cartman's direction, "This lady always has that milkshake and if you're planning on screwing her later I'd do what she says."

"You said you would pay for me Cartman," Wendy said sweetly and Cartman wasn't sure if she had heard the waiter. She most likely had if the guy was warning him about her.

"Give the lady what she wants," Cartman conceded, shooting daggers at poor Willie. Ten dollars for drinks? A waste of money!

"Trust me Cartman," Wendy looked perfectly innocent as she smiled across the table, "You're going to love this milkshake. It's made with warm chocolate milk that's sprinkled with cinnamon, vanilla ice cream and it has a melted piece of Toblerone floating at the bottom."

"Five dollars, Wendy. Five dollars."

"Oh quit your bitching," her eyes narrowed a little bit. "You're a guy. Guys always pay for meals. It's the law. You're just going to have to swallow your pride and hand over your wallet."

Deep down, Cartman was a cheap little asshole and there was no way Wendy was ever going to get her hands on his cash. Not that Wendy would have wanted it but he did not know her well enough to know that. She liked being independent. It was just her hobby to teach men manners and no one was more of a challenge than Eric Cartman.

Whistling Willie was smart enough to give Wendy her shake first. Cartman was still mentally bitching that he had paid ten dollars for drinks when he did become intrigued by the rapidly melting chocolate at the bottom of the glass. His taste buds betrayed him and took Wendy's side; it was a bitchin' good milkshake.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. All of this seemed a little too familiar. Cartman's head whipped from side to side to make sure there were no Buddy Holly or Marilyn Monroe servers having around. The last thing he wanted was to dance. No one, not even Wendy was ever going to make him dance.

"I hate Pulp Fiction," he muttered to himself, staring at the milkshake with some suspicion.

"Pulp Fiction?" he did not think she would have heard him since Wendy seemed very pleased with her milkshake.

"A movie where they go out for a date, have milkshakes then they dance around and cut some asshole's ear off."

"No, the ear was Reservoir Dogs. A guy gets f'ed in the A' in Pulp though."

"Big whoop," Cartman scoffed, "I see more disturbing things in the male locker rooms."

Kenny's scrawny ass invaded his mind for a minute and would not go away until Wendy spoke again.

"So why exactly did you take me out Cartman?" Wendy sucked her milkshake through a straw.

"This again? A guy can't ask a girl out for pizza without having something behind it?"

"Most guys can. But not you Cartman," Wendy knew his type well, "You always have some plot or scheme going. I didn't bruise you when I slapped you after the locker room thing, did I?"

"It didn't hurt," Cartman did not look her in the eye. It had not hurt him physically but it had hurt his pride a little bit. "And maybe taking a girl out to dinner makes me feel good."

"So I'm some sort of charity thing for the Cartman soul? I don't believe it," Wendy grinned.

"Alright, alright," he huffed, "Maybe I do just want to piss Stan off."

The young woman thought for a moment.

"Fair enough," she shrugged.

All negative thoughts about the price of the meal disappeared when the food arrived. Cartman had to try really hard not to dive right in like a pig at a trough and to pace himself he decided to bring up Stan again. To belittle him of course, and to check whether Wendy still liked him.

"Stan just did not seem to have any drive to his life," she sighed, cutting up her pizza instead of eating it like a normal human being. "He did not have any idea for a future career. It just frustrated me to no end that he had absolutely no ambition. He was so laid back he was almost horizontal."

It occurred to Cartman that if Kenny was there he would probably have made an entirely inappropriate remark just then.

"So you're ambitious are you?" Cartman chuckled a little.

"There's nothing wrong with that!" Wendy got a little defensive. "I just don't want to be stuck in South Park my whole life. Why is it perfectly acceptable for a man to be ambitious and not for people like me?"

"Maybe just because you usually seem like such a peace loving hippie."

"I don't like hippies," Wendy frowned over her fries, "they're lazy and they smell bad."

Something hit Cartman quite hard in his chest but he smiled in agreement.

"And Kyle just did my head in as well," Wendy sighed, "Do you know what it feels like to be unwelcome in a group of two?"

"All the goddamn time," Eric lifted a big slice of pizza, "It's one of the things I hate about them. They have this Stan/Kyle appreciation club and no one else is welcome."

"If it wasn't for the fact that I've caught Kyle staring at Bebe's boobs I would have totally have thought they were gay for each other."

Cartman snorted, "They are gay. They just don't realise it yet. Kinda like Mr. Garrison. I'm not sure what one of them would make a better woman though."

"Well," Wendy smiled at him thoughtfully, "Kyle is temperamental enough to be a woman but Stan can't wear the pants in any relationship."

"They could be dykes then."

Wendy giggled.

"I like the fact that you don't seem to have a clue what the term P.C. stands for."

"Yeah I do," he frowned, "I'm not that stupid. It stands for Personal Computer."

Wendy covered her mouth as she had a fit of the giggles. She unluckily had taken a bite of pizza and it was threatening to choke her as she laughed.

"What the hell are you laughing about ho?" Cartman did not want her laughing at him. He had not been making a joke. His cheeks burned furiously as Wendy got a hold of herself.

"Aww I'm sorry Cartman," she tried to stifle her giggles, "I just never realised how funny you were."

"Is that… good?" Cartman was loathe to eat in front of her for some reason. He mentally cursed every cheesy poof, every chocolate bar and fizzy drink he had consumed in the past sixteen years. He felt like everything he had ever eaten was still lurking in his thighs or in his stomach, making him feel fatter than he really was.

"Of course it's good, Eric," Wendy did not seem to have a problem eating at all, "that was one of the things I liked about Stan. He could always make me laugh."

"Let's not talk about your ex alright? I hate him and everything about him," Cartman lost his enthusiasm for the conversation, he felt pissed off just hearing her mention Stan and he looked away, anger in his features.

Something inside him however was on the verge of doing snoopy dances.

_Eric._

_She called me Eric._

Wendy's eyebrows met in the middle and putting a hand to Cartman's chin, she pulled his face around to her own again. She stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then she withdrew her hand as if she was a little confused about something.

"What?" Cartman was a little confused himself.

"I'm sorry. For a second you just reminded me of someone. The way your face went when you got cross. I can't think of who though. I think it's someone that pisses me off all of the time," Wendy went back to eating while Cartman worried a little for her sanity.

He did not want to be told that she reminded him of someone she despised. He wanted to go and find that person and beat their face in until any sort of resemblance, no matter how small, completely vanished.

He had to get her stopping thinking of him like that. He needed a topic. Cartman knew that the best way for girls to feel attracted to a man was to simply allow them to talk. The guy should pretend to listen of course but girls seemed to view it as enclosing little bits of their heart. And what was closest to Wendy's heart? A little bit of ambition perhaps.

"So what are you going to be when you grow up?" Cartman mentally kicked himself for using such an expression but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Well," Wendy thought long and hard, idly picking up fries and eating them one of a time, "I guess I always wanted to write. Journalism could even be cool. I'd get a help a lot for my causes by writing about them in a national newspaper."

"Yeah, all your articles are fantastic in the school magazine. I don't pick it up for any other reason," that was a lie but Wendy did not need to know that. He always picked it up for the gossip section so he could laugh at the misfortune of others.

"But," she continued, "I aim to run for senator some day. I need that power and influence to improve the state of the world."

There was silence as they both just ate for a little while. Wendy had gauged his reaction to her plans while she had unfolded them but Eric's face had been completely passive.

"What about you? What are your plans for the future?"

"I guess they're sorta the same as yours to be honest. Start my own company. Run for office eventually. But I wouldn't stop at state senator."

"No?" Wendy looked a little surprised.

"The way I see it, why bother starting the race if you're not going to finish it? You can't just stay senator. You have to move up. And I'm not settling for anything less than the top."

"You mean you want to be President?" Wendy looked intrigued.

"Sure do," Cartman took a long drink of his soda but he kept his eyes on Wendy, "I'd give the Republicans a little more respect again. And Democrats piss me off. Whiny little assholes."

Wendy ran her finger along the inside of her glass and brought the chocolate milk to her lips. Unknown to her, Eric's eyes were following her every movement.

"Why stop at President though?" she was obviously teasing him, "Why don't you just take over the world?"

"Because Stan and Kyle would probably stop me. I hate those guys. And besides it would mean I would have to rule over pointless countries like Belgium or Portugal."

"You could always appoint Stan and Kyle presidents of their own country. They might leave you alone then."

"You don't know Kyle. I wouldn't be able to escape him. If I ran for president then he probably would too just to spite me. I think I'd just have to kill him."

Wendy smiled, "Can I help?" she teased him.

Cartman thought about it for a moment. "I'll hold him. You kill him. Agreed?"

"Sure," Wendy shook his hand, looking rather amused at the idea.

Cartman was struck dumb at the feeling of Wendy's hand in his own. His hand dwarfed hers and he almost felt like he could crush every little bone before Wendy could scream. She seemed so fragile. So delicate next to him. And yet underneath she could perhaps prove to be tougher than he was.

"But Cartman, if you take over the world, I will just have to take over the universe."

"You'd try, ho," he smirked across the table at her, "but no one defeats me. Especially not a woman."

"Except Kyle."

His smile vanished, "Except Kyle."

"Women can just be as cruel and ambitious as men if you can believe it Eric. It's kinda funny. You know Hillary Clinton?"

"Yeah?" Cartman raised an eyebrow.

"There was a time when she and Bill bumped into an old boyfriend of hers. Bill joked about it, "Imagine, if things had gone differently, you would have been married to a gas station attendant instead of the president of the United States." You know what she said to him?" Wendy smiled a little.

"No."

"She said "If things had gone differently, he would have been president of the United States, not you."

It was the way she smiled as she finished her quote, her eyes twinkling with amusement, the corners of her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. It was the way one finger wrapped strands of hair around itself and the way she blushed for using someone like a Clinton to make an argument.

When the Grinch discovered Christmas and the love and compassion for all things soppy his heart grew three sizes too big. When Cartman heard Wendy quote one of the biggest bitches in the world, his heart too swelled to more than its natural size. There was no doubt about it. There was no going back.

Eric Cartman- asshole of assholes- was in love.

His breath shook a little, "Maybe she's not as bad as everyone makes out, hmm?"

"I thought Democrats pissed you off."

"They do but that's bloody harsh. It's brilliant."

"I thought so too," Wendy blushed and giggled.

That was the way that Wendy was the most terrifying and intimidating girl of the school. Despite her ambition and her stubbornness, it was her ability to make men fall for her that made her extremely dangerous. She certainly accidentally messed up Eric Cartman. Men pretended to be bored when she talked about her causes but they were fascinated with the way she forced people to see her opinion. And Cartman always had a soft spot for those that got their way (except of course for Kyle's Mom).

He was still trying to comprehend why he felt so ill when he walked home. He even gave her his jacket when she became cold. It was military green and hung loosely around her shoulders but he thought she looked better in it than he ever did. He had her hat, so she had his jacket.

Wendy had a fun time and had no real clue as to how he felt. She was just pleased to find someone who thought along the same lines as her for ambition and the potential that power could bring.

Cartman on the other hand went home feeling quite sick. He barely noticed Craig being chased down the street by Officer Barbrady and he did not smile. He might have even noticed Kenny lying dead on the road near the seedy side of town. If he had been paying attention he might have noticed that Ike's skateboard had mysteriously disappeared off of his front porch.

The only thing he noticed, the only thing he knew was that things were seriously fucked up right here.

**I just got the news guys! South Park Series 10 is coming to British screens from September 1st:dances around the room happily:**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I'm struck with feelings of inadequacy over the work of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I'm going to go and cry in the corner…

Big thanks to Seeouryou who indirectly inspired me to write after a touch of writers block. On her deviant art website she has two cartoons featuring Kenny and de' Mole. Now I don't think I can write Christophe's character but the drawings made me laugh so much that I started writing again. Thank you.

Happy Reading!

**Chapter 7**

Kenny was looking for somewhere to wash his hands.

He touched Cartman on the ass. On his ass. Now that was not necessarily a bad thing; indeed Kenny did not often mind touching the asses of other men but at Cartman he drew the line. There was just something distinctly odd about the way the fat rippled when he had slapped it playfully and his poor right hand groaned at what it had been subjected to.

"It's ok," he told his hand, rubbing it with his left. His hand did not want to be part of Kenny's body anymore. It wanted to throw itself down a hole and die, feeling horribly filthy.

Where was an axe wielding maniac when you wanted one?

Kenny considered heading home and then remembered his plumbing was on the brink again. Since his father lost his job at the gas station the pipes had burst and they had no money to have it fixed. No water. He kicked the pavement in frustration and toyed with heading into a store to see if there was bathroom.

He had touched Cartman on his ass.

"Hey dude," Stan and Kyle were suddenly in his path. Stan had his hands in his pockets and was slightly slouching beside Kyle.

Kenny took a step back in surprise. Were those two attached at the hip or something? You never just had one of them turn up in front of you and give you a fright; it was always two of them.

"Oh hey," Kenny did not necessarily want to see Stan right now. He had just sent Cartman off with Stan's ex-girlfriend after all. The last thing he wanted was to feel guilty every two seconds for betraying Stan like that.

"Kyle got an old copy of Street Fighter off eBay," Stan smiled; he did not have a clue about what Kenny had just done, "We're going to set up the old games system and pretend to feel nostalgic. You wanna come with?"

"Erm…no," Kenny pulled on the cords of his hood and tied them subconsciously, hiding more of his face.

Stan's eyes narrowed suspiciously at that little movement. But with his optimistic nature concerning his friends he did not piece together why Kenny would feel uncomfortable. He came to his own conclusion and was actually wrong that Kenny for once was not thinking about sex.

"You're going to go snooping again aren't you," Stan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Kyle's eyes widened and he looked from Stan to Kenny and back.

"No, but I can't go anyway. I've got… stuff to do," Stan would figure out why he felt bad eventually and Kenny did not want to be around when he did.

"Snooping?" Kyle asked curiously, "Why would he be snooping?"

Kyle knew nothing about Craig's wager it seemed. That was a surprise because Stan usually told Kyle everything and both boys would happily bicker for hours over minor events of the day. Being paid $100 to sleep with Cartman's Mom was quite a major event and yet Kyle knew nothing.

Kenny pulled up the waistband of his pants, "It's nothing Kyle."

"It's not nothing!" Stan fumed and turned to face his best friend, "Craig paid Kenny to sleep with Cartman's Mom before the Junior Prom!"

"Hey!" Kenny protested, "It wasn't just Craig. You all started it. Asking for photographs of Liane's crotch!"

Kyle looked like he might throw up.

"They wanted photos of what?"

"Of Liane," Kenny glared through his hood," Your friend here and a bunch of guys have asked for me to find out if Cartman's Mom still has a dick because, and I quote, 'at some point in our lives we will have sex with Cartman's Mom, and a couple of the guys don't like the idea of doing it with someone who has a penis.'"

"Dude!" Kyle looked with horror at Stan, "What the fuck? Why?"

"It was funny at the time," Stan tried to defend himself; "We were just, like, messing around."

"That is so not cool," Kyle was shaking his head from side to side as if his overly large brain was stuck trying to figure out the stupidity of the situation. It was a good thing he only wore his glasses to read; they would have flown right off of his face and hit Stan on the side of the head. "Why the hell would you ask him to that?"

"They called me a pervert," Kenny felt offended all over again. He was a bit of a pervert, enjoying spying on the girls through a secret hole only he knew about into the girls' bathrooms.

"A lot of the guys are real homophobes," Stan said in a small voice, "Especially Craig. You know what that douche bag is like. Besides it was better for Kenny to do it rather than have that lot take on the job. Cartman would have been up for several counts of murder then."

"Yeah and I don't count as a murder victim," Kenny muttered.

"Why do you even want to know anyway?" Kyle still did not seem to understand, "it's wrong. Just wrong. She's a mom! She's Cartman's Mom!"

"Hey, she may be a mom but she is hot," Kenny shrugged, "It makes my job easier anyway. I might not have agreed if it was your Mom, Kyle."

"This is so disgustingly Oedipus like," Kyle ran a hand through his curly hair.

"Oedi-who?" Kenny and Stan asked.

"He was this Greek dude that killed his Dad and married his Mom. He didn't know they were his parents but when he found out his mom committed suicide and he gouged his eyes out with the pins of a brooch."

"Oh I met him," Kenny thought back to hell, "he sits around screaming all day in a funny language with blood gushing from his eyes."

It was Stan's turn to look a little green and he threw up a little in his mouth.

"What the fuck is wrong with historical people?" he asked a horrible grimace in his face as he had to swallow it away. "I mean, why was everyone in the past a complete and utter asshole? They're all either homophobes or molesters or murderers or evil dictators or serial killers. Wasn't there anyone normal back then?"

"Well Stan," Kenny shrugged and waved his hand against the South Park sky line, "Would you say South Park was in anyway normal?"

It was a good question to ask because Officer Barbrady had shown up in his cop car and was chasing Craig and his friends down the street. The aging policeman was shouting something about being naked in an old folks' home and heart attacks. Craig was running as fast as his legs could carry him, he turned the corner and out of sight into a pedestrian precinct. Barbrady followed in his car.

Stan blinked a couple of times, "No, I wouldn't say we were particularly normal either."

"Well it's about time that boy got himself arrested for flipping people off all of the time, mm-kay," Mr Mackey appeared at Stan's right, watching Barbrady speeding past. Kenny could not help but jump again. Everyone just kept popping up on him today.

"Hi Mr Mackey," Stan changed his voice to sound more like the old councillor.

"You ok Mr Mackey, mm-kay?" Kyle did the exact same thing and both young men snorted to themselves, Mr Mackey happily misunderstanding their little joke.

"I'm fine boys, are you all keeping out of trouble?" he smiled at them pleasantly.

"Yes," they chorused in unison.

Something hit Kenny mentally as he stared through the gap in his hood at the school councillor. It was the recent memory of Eric Cartman gazing longingly after Wendy Testaburger, saying he was just going to go home and have the house to himself.

"_She'll be busy," _the memory spoke to him and an idea began to take shape in Kenny's mind,_ "I'm just gonna go home and watch TV. Mom's going out with Mr. Mmm-kay again so I can have the house to myself."_

Kenny began fiddling with the cords of his hoodie as Kyle and Stan kept doing their impressions of Mr. Mackey, talking to him like he was stupid. Liane was going out with Mackey. It was a truth universally acknowledged that Mrs. Cartman and Mr. Mackey were fuck buddies. They only met for sex. The stories about their sexploits were also universally known as many of their encounters had ended up on the internet. Kenny was surprised that Mackey had never been fired for his behaviour, especially since the film of him drinking Liane's urine while she strutted around in an S&M outfit was released on VHS and DVD (Kenny owned the video version).

And if they were meeting up then that meant…

"Are you going to see Liane?" Kenny suddenly felt hopeful. As much as he lusted after her, he did not really want to betray Eric by screwing his mother. If he could get a picture of Mackey and Liane having sex then he might have enough proof to satisfy everyone and get his five hundred dollars.

"Heh heh, yeah," Mackey chuckled to himself, "but don't worry boys. I know to use protection."

"Dude, that's sick," Stan's lunch was again threatening to make another appearance.

"I'll see you lot around, mm-kay," Mackey walked off, "now remember and stay out of trouble."

"We will," Kenny called after him and then turned back to his friends, "Quick, does someone have a camera phone I could borrow?"

Kyle dug into his pocket and was about to hand his over when he quickly realised what Kenny was likely to do with the camera, "Hell no Kenny, I don't want that on my phone!"

"Oh come on! Please?" Kenny begged them both, "I'll delete the pictures later. I just need to borrow it for tonight. You guys said you're spending the night together. One of you doesn't need their phone then because you won't need it to chat."

Stan sighed and handed his over grudgingly, "I want it back tomorrow. And I don't want to see any of your pictures."

"Cool! Thank you so much!" Kenny gave Stan a hug and dashed off to follow Mr. Mackey.

He followed Mackey at a distance, amused at the way the aging councillor half danced his way to the Cartman house, no doubt looking forward to hours of hard core sex. He hid behind a fence when Mackey rang the doorbell and was let inside by a giggling Liane who grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him inside. Once the door slammed shut, narrowly missing Mackey's scrawny backside, Kenny dashed up the porch and crouched near the front door, trying to listen through the wood.

He heard a lot of giggling and "mm-kay's" but nothing remotely sexual yet. He pulled out Stan's phone and took a few moments figuring out how the camera worked on it. When he was able to take a picture of the door handle successfully, Kenny straightened up and looked through the peephole in the front door. Everything was really blurry and upside down but he could make out Mackey's green shirt and what appeared to be Liane's red skirt or top, depending whether she was the right way up or not. Both seemed to be making their way away from the door, perhaps up to Liane's bedroom.

It was when the door handle shook and the peephole swung away from Kenny's eye that he realised that they were not heading away from the door. They were opening it!

"Oh shit!" Kenny exclaimed and dived into the bushes.

Liane and Mackey came out, still more interested in each other than the teenager whose orange hoodie was rather visible through the bushes. Kenny wished that he let the branches grow wilder instead of pruning them all of the time for Cartman. It would have made a better hiding place then.

But the two adults hooked arms and walked down to Liane's mini-van, Mackey running his eyes up and down her body as if he was mentally undressing her. Liane had one of Mackey's butt cheeks in a firm grip, her fingers nipping him and making him let out pleasured little grunts. Like a gentleman, Mackey let go of Liane to open the driver's door for her. She giggled at this and slid into the front seat, taking care to slide along parts of Mackey's anatomy as she did so.

Kenny watched intrigued, wondering whether or not they were going to have sex in the car when Liane started the engine, Mackey sliding into the passenger's seat.

"Shit!" Kenny was stuck for what to do. He had counted on them having hard core sex at home.

He began to stand up when one foot nearly slid out from underneath him. Looking down he realised he had placed one foot on a skateboard. Puzzled because Cartman had never owned a skateboard in his life, Kenny kicked it away. But just before the car started to roll down the driveway, Kenny was struck once again by a moment of genius.

Well, it was not really his idea but it had made for a good ten minutes of cinema; Marty McFly catching a lift with only his skateboard and a few oblivious drivers. Kenny grabbed the skateboard and hid in the mini-van's blind spot, balancing on the board rather precariously. He kept a firm grip on the rear window's wiper as Liane drove off.

Kenny let out a little screech as they turned out of the driveway, nearly flying off the skateboard and into the path of other traffic. But once she got on the main road, Kenny was cruising along. Every so often when he went over a pothole he nearly fell to his death but apart from that it was a rather fun ride. He learned how to control the skateboard and how he should take corners, taking pride in this accomplishment.

"Don't need money," he sang to himself, remembering to stay in the blind spot where Liane's mirrors could not see him, "Don't need fame. Don't need a credit card to ride this train. It's strong and it's sudden. It can be cruel sometimes. But it might just save your life. That's the power of love."

He was rather enjoying watching the town of South Park go past at this speed and height. He was low but it made him remember what it was like to be younger and being able to see under skirts without having to bend over too much. A couple of people stared as they went past the Post Office and Jim's Drugs but they did not say anything.

It was not until Liane had to stop at some traffic lights that someone actually took the time to comment on this new weirdness. It was Mrs Garrison and some strange man. She looked Kenny up and down with disgust, unable to contemplate what it had been like to teach such an impoverished and untidy ruffian.

"Well," she snorted to herself as Kenny waved pleasantly, "the poor will just about find any way to mooch off of hardworking people like us Lewis."

"Aww come on," her date found it quite funny, "At least he can get from A to B without it costing him too much. It's quick and cheap."

"Yeah?" Mrs Garrison took on a haughty and dramatic flair, pulling her date away from Kenny, "So is the driver."

After that, the mini-van headed into the seedier side of town where porn theatres were found on every corner and there were gyms for horizontal workouts rather than pumping iron. Kenny lost the skateboard as Liane drove over the train tracks into the wrong side of South Park and was dragged the rest of the way, barely able to hold onto the bumper.

"Fucking hell," Kenny thought he should be getting more than five hundred dollars for this sort of treatment. His new sneakers were getting scuffed and nearly wrecked from being dragged.

"Oh please stop," he begged, his fingers about to give away, "Please. I don't want to die."

Almost as if she heard him, Liane put her foot down on the brake and brought the car to a stop outside of the Studcat Theatre. Kenny rubbed his eyes as he tried to figure out where he was. Liane and Mackey were going to a gay film? He sat for a few moments in disbelief, taking a strange pleasure from the sensation of stillness, crossing his legs on the road.

Maybe Mackey was secretly into humping and pumping with men as well. Maybe Liane found two men having sex too horny to resist. But neither jumped out of the car straight away. Kenny pulled himself onto his knees and peered through the rear window. Liane seemed to have disappeared. He could not see her in the driver's seat.

But when Mr Mackey let out a pleasured sigh, Kenny realised where Liane's head had ended up. He was not sure if he felt repulsed or intrigued by the sight of Mackey receiving a blowjob but he could not help but watch. It was like a car crash. You could not bring your eyes away.

But Mackey started looking out of the windows warily, as if he knew he was being watched and Kenny had to dive under the car so he would not be seen. He slid under the back of the car between the wheels as the car rocked a little above him. He glared up at the rear axel as Mackey got a little bit of something good.

"Well, golly, what are you doing under the car there Kenny? Are you dead?"

Kenny nearly knocked his head off of the exhaust when Butters's face peered under the car. Butters looked wonderfully naïve as always but he also looked extremely relieved by the fact that Kenny was not crushed under one of the wheels.

"When I saw you under the car I thought you'd got knocked down," part of his face was still swollen from when Cartman had beaten him up. One of his eyes looked like he had smeared different shades of eye shadow around his swollen eyelids. It was surprising he could see much at all, especially being able to see Kenny hiding there.

"Get down!" Kenny pulled on the front of Butters's jacket, "They'll see you!"

"Who'll see me?" Butters was a little surprised and he rubbed his now filthy pants, huddling around the exhaust.

"Oh that feels so good, Mmm-kay!" the car jolted once more above Kenny and Butters eyes almost popped out of his head.

"That's Mr Mackey!" the blonde boy exclaimed and almost stood up again.

Kenny grabbed a hold of Butters again and held him still, his fingers digging into the material, "I said stay down!"

"Mmm yeah, you know that feels so good. Oh! Right there! Yeah, right there! Mmm-kay!"

"What are they doing?" Butters's cheeks had gone a very interesting shade of red as if he did have a very good idea of what the couple in the car were doing.

Kenny had to resist the urge to hit Butters as the car rocked dangerously above him.

"He's getting a little of the mouth action, kid, now shut the fuck up or they'll hear you!" Kenny hissed at him. His bottom leg was cramping from being stuck in this weird position. Kenny was used to lots of weird positions but half crouching, half lying under Liane Cartman's mini-van was not as pleasurable as other positions he could think of.

"Oh Liane!" Mr Mackey seemed very vocal for such a jittery old man. His voice was a little muffled but it was still easy to tell exactly how excited he was. Liane herself stopped for a moment to giggle before she continued.

"What are you doing here anyway Butters?" Kenny fumed at him. Butters was at times a bit of a talker, and he would think nothing of telling people about Kenny hiding under the Cartman mini-van, especially not to Eric Cartman. Butters would think it was funny but Kenny bet his life that Eric would not find him following his mother and her sex friend around remotely funny.

"I'm here to pick up my dad," Butters went a little bit red in the face.

"Your dad?"

"Yeah," the shy blonde looked rather uncomfortable, "My dad is a gay homosexual. But we all pretend that he's not. If I walk my dad home from the gym then my mom can pretend to herself that we're just having some father/son time."

"God, Butters, I'm sorry," Kenny felt awful for hissing at him, "I had absolutely no idea."

"No one does," Butters rubbed his knuckles together, "People make fun of me already. They don't need to know that my dad is a gay homosexual. You won't tell anyone will you?" he looked at Kenny desperately.

"I won't tell a soul. Promise."

"Let's go and watch a little of the movie," Liane's voice interrupted them, and Kenny could see the wonderful curve of her ankle as she got out of the car. He could not help but admire how perfect her feet looked in sandals.

It appeared that Mackey was not at all finished by the funny way he followed her out of the car. He looked like he could hardly walk and Kenny had a very good idea of why. Mackey kept very close to her and kept touching Liane lustfully as both adults went into the theatre.

"Butters? Do they have places for sex in all these theatres?" Kenny asked him, pulling Stan's phone out of his pocket.

"How the hell should I know?" Butters looked offended but he tried to be helpful anyway, "they might go into one of the bathrooms I guess."

"Great," Kenny rolled out from under the car onto the road and pulled himself to his feet, "I can maybe catch a picture of them having sex in the toilets then."

"Why would you do that?" Butters looked beyond Kenny and went white as a sheet, "Erm, Kenny?"

"Not now Butters. I got to go win five hundred big ones."

"But Kenny..."

"No, not now. It's a long story that I'll tell you later. I need to figure out Stan's camera again."

"Kenny! Police car!" Butters called out frantically.

Kenny spun around on the spot and looked directly into the headlamps of the speeding police car that was hurtling towards him. He did not have time to move. He could barely make out Officer Barbrady through the glare from the light before he was struck and thrown back several feet.

What went through Kenny's mind as the police car slammed into him was not the horrible feeling of bones breaking or a fear of death. It was the strangely cynical voice that told him that he'd better win that $500 because he was going to have to buy Stan a new phone.

In a house, not too far away, two teenagers were half wrestling each other for a better view of the television screen and half battering the hell out of the buttons on their game controllers. A character with blonde hair fell down dead in the game and Stan Marsh threw his controller onto the floor in exasperation.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, "You killed Ken Masters!"

"Yeah," Kyle grinned, "I'm a bastard."

Satan was huddled over a desk studying a lot of paper, his reading glasses perched on the end of his long red nose. He did not look up as Kenny entered but he fiddled with the bridge of the glasses (which looked remarkably similar to Kyle's) and let out a large sigh.

"I thought you were going to take care of yourself."

"I was," Kenny shrugged, eyeing the fiery interiors," but Barbrady is old, deaf and nearly blind. You can't blame either of us."

"I can and will," Satan threw his papers off of his desk in disgust; "it's my job."

Kenny looked at all the folders and sheets of paper in a pile on the floor and widened his eyes. He looked back at the Prince of Darkness who looked as if he had not had any sleep in quite a while.

"You look like you need a holiday," he told him, "if you don't mind me saying so."

"I can't take a holiday," Satan looked very glum, "I'm being audited."

"You? Who in God's name is auditing you?"

Satan let out a sigh, "God."

"God? Why's He doing that?"

"It started three thousand years ago," Satan took of his glasses, "I was angry with Him. He creates all these people and then doesn't allow them into Heaven. He sends them to me and where am I supposed to put 98,657,567,345 people? I don't have room!"

Kenny nodded sympathetically.

"I mean if you're going to play with life then you need to think about where all the waste is going to go when it doesn't fill up to your expectations. Hell isn't infinite in the way Heaven is. I have to open up new districts of Hell upstairs in Mexico and Los Angeles because I'm running out of room. And it's costing me a fortune. Especially since people like Hitler and Lenin are demanding bigger accommodation because they were famous. All the most horrible torture devices for them. A bigger bed of spikes! Hanging from the ceiling isn't good enough for some people."

"Well send me back and then I'm one less person for you to deal with," Kenny offered with a smile.

"Well, I'm going to have to," Satan rubbed his eyes, "But I don't want to see you again here for a while. At least try to be good with this life so you can go and complain to God Himself for me."

"Alright," Kenny said, "I'll do my best."

"He is not giving me any help until I sort out my expenses for the last millennia," Satan stood up and prepared to send Kenny back to the surface, "He says He might give me a loan if I send some of the Jews back to Heaven. Heaven needs more comedy, He says. They tell better jokes, He says. Doesn't care how expensive it is to send to them back for His humour."

"You should ask Kyle Schwartz to help you with all of this," Kenny told the Prince of Darkness, "he's good with big numbers."

"No I've heard about him. He breathes too loudly," Satan reached down and put his hand on Kenny's forehead, "But listen Kenny. Don't think I don't know what you've been asked to do. This may sound a little odd coming from the devil but to betray a friend like that is just wrong. It doesn't matter how much of an asshole Cartman can be. Don't fool around behind his back."

"You know?" Kenny's eyes widened.

"Yeah. God has a new memo system that He's very pleased with. But I don't want to see you again for a while. You were doing well. You haven't died for a long time. I think it's because that hoodie gives you better visibility than your old parka used to give you. You can see danger easier."

"It was a sort of gift from Eric," Kenny told him, feeling guilty for the third time that day.

"Gifts from friends give off a sort of protection," Satan led Kenny to where he would be sent back to Earth, "their spirit remains with it, and with you."

"I hate Catholic guilt," Kenny told him bitterly, "and you're making me feel worse."

"Oh stop your complaining. Catholics make the funniest drunks."

Kenny thought of his father, "No they don't"

"Are you arguing with the Prince of Darkness?"

"No."

"Sounds like you are."

Kenny put his right hand over his heart, "I'd never argue with the devil."

**If you even just like a certain line or a certain image then please do leave a review. They are wonderful to read and it makes this sad little obsessive fan very happy. Thank you. xx**


	8. Chapter 8

Oh my God! You guys! Seriously you guys! You're not going to believe it! Oh my God, you guys! Seriously! Thirty Two Reviews! This is so tits! Let's make it to 40! (Please?)

**Disclaimer: **I'm half Scottish, half Polish. Both sides of my genetics have been endlessly bullied for countless generations. And I'm getting quite sick of this and of you lawyers telling me that I don't own South Park. Stop bullying me.

This chapter is dedicated to all those that, like me, have a problem with balance; for those that usually find themselves horizontal rather than vertical (in more ways than one), for those whose knees are usually covered in bruises because that's what usually hits the ground first and for all those that just have a drink in them. And if anyone is clever enough, or pathetic enough to recognise where I got Pip's speech about the Trojans then this chapter is dedicated to you too. (And to get an idea of Cartman's jacket then see oneirogenic's fabulous drawing on deviant art "This is love…" It's sorta what I based it on because I loved it so much. It looks kinda military to me, except it's unbuttoned. But loving it.)

**Chapter 8**

Eric Cartman fell out of bed.

He should have known right there and then that he was going to have a bad day. He should have went straight back under the covers. He should have curled up into a ball and fallen back to sleep.

But he didn't. Because Eric Cartman never does anything he is supposed to. He does what he wants. He does not let silly little accidents like a fall ruin the events of the day. So he rubbed his shin, and then his head, said "ouch" and pulled himself to his feet.

You would have thought the a crash as loud as Cartman falling out of bed would have woken up the neighbourhood or at least made his mother run into the room to check if he was ok. But she did not. Cartman sat back down on the bed stubbornly for a few minutes to see if Liane would run into his room, worrying about her poopsiekins. But her slender figure never appeared, nor did her strangely angelic voice call out to inquire after him.

A little irritated, the overweight teenager made his way across the corridor and peered around her door. Liane Cartman was asleep, dead to the world, a post-coitus glow on her sweet face. She was smiling in her sleep, her hair fanned out on her pillow like a halo. Eric hung around her doorway for a few more minutes, contemplating whether or not he should wake her. He would have liked company while he ate breakfast. But she looked too happy sleeping.

Cartman shook his head and went downstairs to make breakfast. He had two bananas, a bagel, some fried egg and a couple of slices of toast while he sat and watched the TV. The news reported that the Crocodile Hunter had been killed by a stingray and that made him feel worse. He never watched the guy anymore but he had enjoyed his antics when he was much younger. He turned off the TV in frustration and ate his toast in silence before heading out for the bus.

It was raining. And since Cartman's jacket was currently with Wendy he did get quite soaked. He considered himself too manly to carry an umbrella and so there were droplets of water running down from his hair as he reached the bus stop, looking more like a drowned rat rather than a teenage boy. Kenny too was looking rather unhappily wet when the bus arrived but Stan and Kyle as usual had all the luck that Cartman did not, bundled up in their nice warm jackets.

Kenny dripped all over the floor when the four went to find a seat near the back of the bus. The poor young man sat beside the window and squeezed as close to the side as he could so Cartman could sit beside him. Stan and Kyle sat together in front of them and talked amongst themselves in the way that Stan and Kyle did every morning.

Kenny however was rather chirpy now that he was a little warmer and despite the lack of space, he was practically jumping up and down in his seat beside Cartman.

"So did you score?" Kenny asked him excitedly, "Did ya? Did ya? Come on! Tell me all the dirty details!"

"I didn't score," Cartman grumbled and tried to wring the water out of his hat, Kenny's energy irritating him.

"Did you get a kiss?" Kenny nudged him.

"No."

"Did you get to touch anything?" Kenny wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No."

"What, did she turn you down?"

"No."

"Is no all you can say?" Kenny smirked.

"Yes," Cartman sighed.

"Oh come on Eric, you're no fun today," Kenny put his arm around Cartman's shoulders; this was a rather difficult thing to do because of Kenny's small stature and Cartman's own rather big one.

"Get your fucking arm off me or I'll break it."

"But Eric, you love being cuddled really," Kenny smirked at him and tried to tickle him. This pissed Cartman off more and would have attacked the poor young man if a certain someone had not just entered the bus.

Cartman's fist was mere inches from Kenny's face when Wendy came up the steps, as beautiful as ever. She caught his eye and smiled and waved in greeting, making Cartman lower his fist in defeat. Usually no one paid much attention to people coming onto the bus. If they knew them they might say hello. But when Wendy entered everyone started talking amongst themselves with a strange sort of perverse excitement.

Wendy was wearing Cartman's jacket.

Kyle was one of the first to notice. Some part of his mind had been thinking that purple and green clashed a little and that the colour did not suit Wendy's colouring. He was trying to figure out why he was thinking about fashion when he noticed that swastika badge pinned to the front of the jacket. There was absolutely no mistaking who that jacket belonged to. When Cartman was younger he could have been forgiven for his ignorant admiration for Hitler and his anti-Semitic beliefs but Kyle could never forgive Cartman for walking around with THAT symbol attached to his chest all day long.

"Hey dude," he nudged Stan, "look."

Stan had been happy looking out of the window. When he saw what Wendy was wearing he frowned and seemed a little hurt but he continued to look at the rain through the glass.

"Stan!" Kyle nudged him harder, "It's the swastika. It's the fucking swastika."

"Yeah I know," Stan crossed his arms and did not look at Wendy.

Kyle was filled with a sense of moral outrage and could barely put it into words.

"She… he….she's wearing that… but it's his. It's fucking Cartman's! He's gone out with her, dude! Behind your back!"

Wendy approached the foursome and sat across from Cartman with Bebe.

"Hey Eric," she asked him, fingering the material of his jacket, "Do you want this back?"

"Yes I would," Cartman grumbled. He was torn between the desire to remain dry and the desire to see her wearing it. She seemed to suit the military style more than he did. "It's raining Wendy. I'm soaked."

"Oh so it is," Wendy smirked and Bebe giggled, "But Eric… I don't have an umbrella. And well, you would not want me to get soaked now would you?"

Everyone on the bus was now listening with fascination.

Eric looked around at everyone and then turned his gaze to the floor, "No, I don't."

"So I can keep it?" Wendy stifled a giggle.

"Whatever ho," Cartman glared at the floor, his cheeks burning.

Wendy unpinned the badge and handed it to him with a little more seriousness.

"I don't like that thing," her fingers touched his for a moment and Eric Cartman was again nothing more than a big puddle. He put the badge in his pocket while Wendy talked and giggled with Bebe.

"Hey dude," Kenny nudged him, "You shoulda said 'I want you wet in more ways than one, Wendy'."

"Shut up Kenny!"

"You know," Kenny was caught up in his own perversion, "Wet so you can see through her clothes and wet down there so you could…"

That was when Cartman's fist finally reached Kenny's face.

The rest of the bus journey was rather uneventful. Kenny nursed his poor nose and Cartman grumbled to himself, looking every so often at Wendy and feeling that weird sick sensation he had suffered the previous night. His chest hurt too but he did not say anything. Stan and Kyle however seemed to be bickering. Kyle's voice was high-pitched and he was clearly trying to get Stan to see his point of view but Stan was having none of it. And that just made Kyle angrier.

When everyone started leaving the bus, Wendy waved at Eric and started walking away. On an impulse, Cartman stood up too to follow her so he could chat while everyone pushed and squeezed their way out. Kenny was a little lazier and so was Bebe so they were playfully winking at each other before they stood up and did not notice the anger on Kyle's face.

He was not sure even why he did it. On reflection, it was a very Cartman-esque thing to do. Perhaps it was his sense of moral outrage, maybe he was overly pissed off on Stan's behalf. But when Stan refused to discuss the matter and Cartman passed their seats with his eyes on Wendy, Kyle's foot found itself in the aisle.

He tripped Cartman.

When a person of normal size and weight falls it is embarrassing enough. When you are as big as Cartman then it is infinitely worse. He fell with such a thud that the whole bus shook. His sides were half pummeled by the seats of either side of him. His bruised shin screamed loudly at him in protest as he found himself face down on the filthy bus floor.

Everyone erupted into laughter. Bebe was bent over double with the giggling and even the bus driver was beside himself with laughing. Wendy spun around the on the spot to look at Cartman and laughed too.

"Aww, are you falling for me Eric?"

She had no knowledge of how cruel that question was. Rage built in Eric's chest; he balled his fists and his eyes stung as he struggled to his feet. Once again, falling over when you are that size was beyond embarrassment. Someone thin could be up on the feet within seconds and running away from the humiliation. It took Cartman several moments to push himself onto his knees in the cramped walkway and then haul himself to his feet.

Because he had been wet his front was now absolutely filthy. He wiped himself off a little gingerly before people started pushing from behind to get off of the bus. Cartman rubbed some of the dirty off of his face and mentally raged at God for making him appear so stupid.

He had to go to his locker and change into his gym clothes before classes, throwing the rest of his filthy things into the back. His gym clothes had a slightly musty smell but they would have to do. He was not going to walk around the school in that mess.

Cartman tried to keep his head down for most of the day. He did not answer out in class, made no smart ass remarks nor allowed Mrs. Spinks to force him to read more Hamlet. Unfortunately his study period was at the same time as lunchtime for most other students and his study partner was off somewhere. Cartman desperately wanted to skip studying in the library and go have his lunch but Stan practically begged him to find Pip and help them out. He had gotten a C minus in his last essay so Cartman was forced to go and find the one person in the school that was English.

It did not take long to find Pip. He and Butters and a few Goths, or Punks, or whatever they wanted to call themselves, were sitting around a table in the cafeteria. Pip's spiky hair was visible from wherever you stood in the room and many younger students stared at his hair with both disgust and admiration.

Cartman had no such feelings. He strode up the table and tugged on Pip's ear.

"Come on bitch," he glared at the freaks around the table. "Time to do it."

"I'm having my lunch," Pip smirked and took another bite of his sandwich, "And don't worry Cartman, we can 'do' it all you want later."

"Fuck you queer bait," Cartman fumed.

Pip laughed with his mouth full and told his friends, "He treats me like I'm his bitch. It's really quite funny."

"You are my bitch, now get your ass out of that chair and come to the library before I make you."

Pip shrugged, "I think you're going to have to make me."

Everyone around the table sniggered and chuckled at the increasing frustration evident on Cartman's face.

"I'd be careful Phillip;" Butters told him nervously, "Eric is really strong."

Pip looked Cartman up and down, "Nah, he's just a big fat brute."

He was just about to take another bite of his sandwich when he found himself out of his seat and sort of spinning through the air. He was trying to figure out what was going on and what way was up when he found himself slung over Cartman's shoulder. From this very high position, Pip realised that Cartman was actually quite strong and was carrying him as easily as an ant carries breadcrumbs.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Pip let out an undignified squeal.

"I'm kidnapping you," Cartman held onto him tight and started walking towards the door, "You wouldn't do as you were told so I've had to resort to extreme measures, Frenchie."

"Dammit!" Pip kicked and punched, trying to get free, "I'm not French you arsehole!"

"Shut the fuck up or I'll kick you in the balls," Cartman threatened as he carried him up the stairs to the library, many people stopping to stare. But since this area of Colorado was infamous for strange happenings it only attracted attention for a few minutes before the next freak show came along.

Pip was not at all happy with this situation. Cartman was holding onto the back of his legs and Pip's face was unfortunately not very far away from Cartman's butt. He put his hands on Cartman's back to push himself up and away from the gigantic ass but Cartman jostled him and he fell back down again.

"God, you've got a huge arse," Pip fumed, "I never realised before til I saw it from this unique angle. You have a really big arse."

"I'll drop you," Cartman held him over the side of the banister for a moment, making the British boy let out another undignified squeal before settling back on Cartman's shoulder.

"I'm going to tell you how this is going to work, Frenchie. You're going to explain more of crappy Shakespeare to me or else I'll throw you off the banister. You are hereby officially kidnapped and you better do as I say or I'll kick you down the stairs."

"Kidnapped?" Pip asked mournfully, "You haven't done that in over a week, I was enjoying my freedom."

"Tough shit. You're English so you are going to explain Shakespeare's verbal diarrhea and you're going to like it."

"It's like a foreign language to me too Eric. But please put me down. I'll walk the rest of the way."

"Hell no," Cartman bumped him against the wall for good measure, "You'd wuss out on me and run away like all you pathetic Frenchie men do."

"I'M NOT FUCKING FRENCH!"

Stan and Kyle were waiting outside the library for them. When Cartman saw the smirks on both their faces he wished he had stayed in bed. He was having a really bad day. His hair was all greasy from the rain, he was wearing his smelly gym clothes and he was now going to have to put up with three of the most annoying people in the world. He should have stayed in bed. When he saw the smirk beginning on Kyle's face he wished he had never woken up.

"So Eric," Kyle began, "Is love lifting you up where you belong?"

"No dude," Stan nudged him and laughed, "He's holding him wrong. It's more like Shrek and Fiona here."

"I'm Shrek" Pip offered, waving his hand over Cartman's shoulder.

"And my, how pretty your Fiona is too," Kyle sneered, "Tell me, is this before or after you became an ogre Fiona?"

"Fuck off Jew-boy," Cartman shoved him with his free hand, "You're not studying with us."

"Unless you're going to lift me over your other shoulder then I am going to study with you," Kyle crossed his arms. There was no way Cartman could really carry Kyle like that even with two free arms. He was too tall for that.

Stan waved his play at Pip, "Can you tell us what the hell the end of Act 2 Scene 2 is all about?"

"I suppose I could if someone let me down," Pip grumbled.

Cartman dropped Pip. And for that he kicked the back of Cartman's shins.

"That hurt!"

"Whatever," Cartman rubbed the back of his legs. Stan and Kyle grabbed a table and opened their books. Kyle's book was a little ragged and had pencil lines everywhere, little notes in his margins. Stan's book was very neat and looked like it had hardly been used. And when Pip and Cartman joined them at the table, Stan seemed more interested in reading Kyle's book than his own.

"Yeah Pip," Kyle flicked through some pages, "What the hell is going on at the end of this scene? They are standing around talking about nothing. There's no plot advancement, nothing remotely interesting at all."

"Well of course not," Pip sighed, not even bothering to open his book as he and Cartman had argued about the play too many times for him to have forgotten anything. "It's one of the sections that often gets cut out in a stage performance. He's just showing off at this point."

"Why?" Stan looked confused. Cartman looked bored.

"Well, you know how Tarantino and the like spend ages referencing films and stuff that inspire them?"

"Yeah?" Kyle lifted a disbelieving eyebrow.

"It's kinda the same thing really," Pip shrugged, "as long as you understand the start of the scene don't bother about the rest. It's the start that's important. The ending was probably more there for the people of the time, referencing plays that they would have seen, characters they would have known."

"Oh," Stan seemed a little happier, "So we don't need to care about the actors all these Greek or Roman people they talk about?"

"Not really," Cartman fumed, "It's all the same Hercules and Trojan horse bullcrap."

"It was not a Trojan horse," Pip told him.

"Duh," Cartman rolled his eyes, "Yeah it was. I saw the movie you know!"

"No. Well, but it was the Greeks that gave the Trojan horse to the Trojans, so technically it wasn't a Trojan horse at all, it was a Greek Horse," Pip told the rather baffled group. "Hence the tag "_Timeo Danaos et Dona ferentes"_ which you may recall is usually and somewhat inaccurately translated as "_Beware of Greeks bearing gifts"_. Or doubtless you would have recalled were you not ignorant Americans."

"Oi!" Cartman had gotten a little pissed off at Pip's speech but the English man continued his vein of thought anyway. Kyle too was rather surprised and pissed off but he unfortunately had been shocked into silence.

"Although, just as the Trojan horse was in fact Greek, so what some people might describe as a Greek tag is in fact Latin. It's obvious really, the Greeks would never suggest bewaring of themselves if one used such a participle, bewaring that is, and it is clearly Latin, not because "_Timeo"_ ends in 'o', because the Greek first person also ends in 'o'."

Cartman was wishing he had never said anything. His eyes were wide and cross, as if he was horrified at having his own ignorance ridiculed and pissed off that Pip would not stop talking. He opened his mouth to speak but Pip seemed to be enjoying teaching him.

"Though actually, there is a Greek word called "_Timao"_ meaning_ "I honour," he smiled at everyone,_ "But the 'os' ending is a nominative singular termination of the second declension in Greek, and an accusative plural in Latin of course, though actually "_Danaos"_ is not only the Greek for Greek but also the Latin for Greek, it is very interesting really."

"No it isn't," Stan scoffed.

Cartman kicked Pip in the kneecap, making him bend over to grab it and rub his poor leg, "I hate you Pip."

Things got steadily worse for him from there. He had to put up with the "French" boy and his gay ass friends for another hour before the librarian kicked them out for arguing. He'd lost his appetite when he caught Stan staring almost dreamily into Kyle's book and he became very much aware of how close they were sitting. It was probably just accidental as Stan and Kyle were best friends but the thought of those two getting it on almost made him run to the toilet to vomit.

Thinking that he'd make up for lunch with a couple of chocolate bars later on, he grabbed his University things from his locker and decided to wander over to the school counselor's office for some advice. Cartman was absent mindedly thumbing through the University's of Colorado's Political Science chapter of the brochure when he turned the corner and saw something that made his heart sink into his stomach.

She was leaning against her locker still wearing the jacket, a wry smile on her face, holding her books to her chest while she chatted with Kenny. His hood was down and so his full head of blonde hair was on show as well as his charming smile. He had one hand against the locker beside hers and was looking into her eyes, standing over her little form with a lustful edge that Cartman knew only too well.

He almost dropped his brochure when Wendy began to laugh at something Kenny said and pushed him away half-heartedly with one hand. He ducked back behind the lockers again to listen in, unable to understand why those two would be talking. As far as he knew Kenny despised Wendy and she barely knew that he existed. But Kenny tended to think with his dick and it angered him to think of that poor scumbag anywhere near his Wendy.

He would have marched over and given Kenny a piece of his mind if he had not overheard their conversation.

"So, Wendy," Kenny's voice was charming and almost silken, "why did you break up with Stan, hmm?"

"Oh this and that," Wendy shook her head from side to side, her lovely hair falling attractively across her face, "You know how it is."

"Yeah, I do," Cartman peered around the locker to get a better view of Kenny. He was staring intently into Wendy's face as if he considered her the most important thing in the universe and Wendy was blushing slightly at the attention.

"Will you be going to Junior Prom with Stan?" Kenny asked her, never taking his gaze away.

"He hasn't asked me," Wendy shrugged, "But I don't even know if I'll go. It's a waste of time. The school only gives us one because they think we feel left out but I don't think I'll bother."

"I'd really like you to go," Kenny spoke softly.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. It'd make me smile to see you all done up, looking so beautiful," Kenny adjusted his stance a little so he could look her up and down very visibly, "Not that you're not already gorgeous."

"Stan never really said I was gorgeous," Wendy did not seem sure how to respond to Kenny.

"Then Stan is a fool," Kenny flashed his charming smile, "And I forbid you to go to the Prom with him."

"Are you asking me?" Wendy raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Just promise not to go with Stan," Kenny stroked her cheek softly.

"Why?"

"Wendy," Kenny whispered, lowering his head closer to hers, "Don't go with Stan. Please? For me?"

"Oh all right," Wendy sighed and edged a little away from him, "But I'm not having sex or anything with you!"

Kenny pretended to look offended, "Why does everyone think I'm a sex-crazed pervert?"

"Because you are one!" Wendy hit his arm playfully.

Cartman could hear no more. Almost deadened with pain he came from behind the lockers, unable to look at the pair of them. But the office was behind them and he had no choice but to go past his traitorous friend Kenny.

When Kenny saw him he automatically stood up straight and backed off from Wendy. He grinned at Cartman and waved at him enthusiastically.

"Hey dude!"

"Don't talk to me," Cartman pushed his way past them. Something in his chest burned at the thought of those two together and he could not stand it.

"What's up?" Kenny looked confused.

"Just fuck off you skanky man-whore!" Cartman bellowed and stormed into the office.

"But dude, I…" Kenny was cut off when Cartman slammed the door in his face. He heard Kenny go "ow" when the door hit his nose but he did not care.

"You know," said a voice from behind the desk, "you need to watch that temper of yours Eric, mm-kay."

Cartman froze. Even before he turned around he knew who was sitting at the desk. A man he despised. A man who constantly seemed to be at his house to fuck his Mom. A man who felt the need to say "mm-kay" after every sentence like some idiot.

He turned slowly on the spot to face Mr. Mackey.

"What?" he could scarcely believe it, "What are YOU doing here?"

"Well," Mr. Mackey explained, "Mrs. Sempie quit because she wanted to raise her kids. And since the position was available I went for it, mm-kay. It's kinda like a promotion."

"Jesus, no," Cartman dropped the brochure in horror.

"Heh heh," Mr. Mackey seemed horribly happy, "So now I get to help you guys again. Your Mom says you're very interested in going to University and now I can talk to you about it, mm-kay?"

There are just some days when you should just remain in bed.

There are some days when you wonder why you bothered to wake up.

It was going to be one of those days for Eric Cartman.

**Be nice and leave a review...please? Kisses.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Bugger off…

Ok… just in case anyone is wondering why I keep referring to deviant art and all these different artists. Well. I kinda love browsing all of those wonderful pictures, especially the South Park ones and there's a lot of hilarious and beautiful drawings that both inspire me and make me almost fall off my seat with the giggling. I just feel it's important to give credit to such people when they make you smile as much as they do for me. I even have a couple of pieces of Fan Art now. Seaouryou, BroflovskiFan and Laithwen, I salute your greatness!

**Chapter 9**

When Kenny felt depressed and low, he liked to go and spy on the girls from the guys' locker room.

It had taken him weeks to drill the hole, using a small hand tool and working on it for a couple of minutes each day. It was quite visible in the wall but no teacher seemed to notice and all of the other guys in the locker room applauded his ingenuity, using it themselves when they had a moment.

But it was still Kenny's hole and it remained his little sordid secret spying place for when life got him down and he needed a flash of a tit to lift his spirits again. And he certainly needed some cheer when he had seen the rage and hurt on Eric's face.

However, he never expected to see someone spying back at him.

Rubbing his poor bruised nose, Kenny made his way through the male changing area to his peephole, wondering whose boobs he might get a glimpse at that day. But he let out a small scream and leapt a foot back from the wall when he saw another eye looking through the hole from the other end.

Catching his breath, he slid back up to the hole and peered through again. The eye was still there and it blinked in response to seeing him.

"Oh fuck," Kenny whispered, "they know."

Fearing for his life in case the eye belonged to someone like Wendy or Red, Kenny made a mad dash for the door so he could escape before the girl on the other side realised that he had vanished. But when he ran out the door a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"Oh, I thought it would be you," Bebe Stevens stood at the entrance of the girls changing room, clad in only a bra, panties and one sock, "Did you make that hole?"

"Eh yeah," Kenny wobbled as he stood on one foot, not sure whether he should run again or ogle her boobs, "So… you found it?"

"Well yeah," Bebe shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder, "I use it all the time."

"You do?"

"Well if you're using it to see half naked girls then would it not be logical for me to use it for looking at half naked men?" Bebe put her hands on her bare hips and raised one eyebrow at him.

"You can see us?" Kenny was still a little horrified that he had been caught.

"Yeah," Bebe smiled, "How do you think I knew about you stripping before anyone else? But I had to come in and see it for myself, to check and make sure I wasn't imagining it."

Kenny let out a small laugh. Bebe was still standing there at the door, in plain view of any passing teacher in nothing but little strips of cloth to conceal her modesty. She did not seem to care if anyone stared at her body because she too spent a lot of time staring at flesh (particularly male flesh). Kenny guessed that she was getting ready for netball practice as Bebe was one of the star players and spent hours playing the game.

"You wanna come in?" Bebe asked daringly and opened the door wider for him.

"That's the girls changing room Bebe."

"I'm the only one here," Bebe winked and with a wiggle of her butt she sauntered back off inside leaving Kenny in the hallway.

Kenny looked up and down the corridor and quicker than lightning he was inside the locker room and closed the door. It was so remarkably clean and bright. The male locker room smelled really bad and the paint peeled. Benches were falling to pieces and half the lockers had been busted in. The girls however kept their room nice and neat with a wonderfully fresh smell of strawberry lip gloss and hairspray.

"I had it all wrong," Kenny admired his surroundings," I should not have spied on you guys through the wall, I shoulda just hid in here!"

"Yeah, for once you weren't all that bright Kenny," Bebe sat down on a bench and patted the space beside her.

"You sure no one is going to come in?" Kenny hesitated. If he was going to sit beside Bebe while she was dressed like that then there was no way he wanted anyone to interrupt what was likely to happen next.

"No one will be here for at last half an hour," Bebe's eyes twinkled and she patted the bench again, "I came early to freshen up."

"Naughty, naughty," Kenny sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, "You should never come early."

"I try not to," Bebe caught his double meaning and put an arm around his hips, letting him warm her bare flesh, "I like finishing last."

"Want to have a shower?" Kenny smirked and began kissing softly just under her ear, "freshen you up?"

"Yeah, it's too warm and stuffy today," Bebe giggled and ran a hand through his hair, closing her eyes when she tingled with pleasure.

"And you're beginning to smell!" Kenny pretended to pull away in disgust, waving his hand in front of his nose, "Phew! What a stink!"

"Oh shut up," Bebe laughed and shoved him. Before he could shove her back Bebe was up and off towards the showers, clipping off her bra and shaking her sock off her foot on the way.

Kenny stood up slowly and pulled his hoodie over his head, dropping it on the floor. After he peeled off his t-shirt he kicked off his scuffed sneakers and let his pants slide down his hips. While he was getting undressed he could hear Bebe turning the water on and the thought of her naked, perfect and wet, made him undress all the more faster. He flung his boxers away and followed her, trying to contain his excitement.

"Well that sucks," Kenny complained, trying to think of something besides Bebe's naked form, "You guys get individual cubicles. The guys have to shower in front of each other. And it's not that pretty!"

A hand reached out from one of the cubicles and pulled him inside. Kenny felt the water hit his skin around about the same time as he felt the wall at his back, pinned there by the incredibly sexy blonde in front of him. Pressing herself up against him, Bebe kissed Kenny, sighing in pleasure when his hands moved down her back to cup her round backside.

Kenny blinked a couple of times and when Bebe stopped for breath he whispered, "It still isn't fair. You girls should be able to see each other lathering up."

"Oh really?" Bebe raised an eyebrow and nibbled on his bottom lip, "What makes you think we don't? You can fit more than one person in here."

"You and who?" Kenny nipped Bebe's backside and she swatted his hand away.

"I'll leave that to your sick and perverted imagination," she smiled knowingly and grabbed a bottle of shampoo, "want to wash my hair?"

Kenny took the bottle and emptied out some of the pink liquid into his cupped hand. Placing the bottle to one side he rubbed the liquid between his hands before it lathered and gently applied it to Bebe's hair, massaging it onto her scalp and long locks. Bebe sighed and relaxed against him while he worked, enjoying the sensation of his fingers rhythmically running through her hair.

Kenny guided her under the full spray of water and started to rinse out the shampoo, some suds running from her hair down her back, over the curve of her backside and down to the plughole. Kenny's eyes followed the suds lustfully, stopping to appreciate the sheer wonder of Bebe's ass. People always thought that Bebe had the best pair of boobs in the year but her ass was also a prized asset. He could distantly remember a letter Bebe had once written about an ass- Kyle's perhaps- and he reflected that he too would love to wear an ass as a hat for all eternity.

"You done?" she interrupted his reverie, running one finger up and down his back.

"Yeah, finished," he stroked down the back of her neck, "I don't think it needs another one."

"Cool, well let's get all soapy then," Bebe whipped out a bottle of a cinnamon scented shower gel and emptied half of the bottle on him. With a playful twinkle in her eye she lifted a sponge and started massing it against his chest.

"Shame we don't have any kind of protection," she whispered huskily in his ear when she leaned over to get some of his back, "seeing you all soapy gets me quite horny."

"I'm the one having to be the Jedi Master of control here," he admitted, "I'd like to push you right up against the wall and take you right here and now."

"As fun as that sounds," she started cleaning herself off, "I always preferred a little of the doggie style."

Kenny coughed and tried his hardest to remain controlled, "Yeah I know. Your ass always has looked perfect from that angle."

"You're my favourite screw." She flicked water at him.

"And you're mine too. You like to have fun and experiment."

"You don't think I'm slutty?" she asked him curiously.

"Hell no," he waved the idea away, "I'm a different sort of guy. I don't care if my lover has been with more people than me, although considering my sex life that'd be rather difficult. Man or woman, boy or girl, black, white, yellow or red, I don't think there should be a problem with sex."

"That's because you're a sex maniac and want to do it with everyone."

"True," he nodded, "but I don't like terms like slut or whore. If a guy sleeps around then he is a whore too. It's not right that you can bad mouth a woman for liking sex when men get away with it. So if I'm a slut then I'm a slut. I'm a guy but I sleep around too so that makes me a total slut and I can't see what's wrong with that."

Bebe laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. Kenny grunted at the feeling of Bebe's bare breasts pressed against his chest.

"I'm glad you can say that," she sighed and she wrapped a lock of his hair around one of her fingers, brushing her lips softly against Kenny's neck, "Wendy can be so judgemental about it sometimes."

"Yeah. Wendy's frigid," Kenny snorted, "Poor Eric."

Bebe lifted her head and frowned, "Poor Eric? Eric? As in Cartman?"

"Yeah he has a boner for her. It's really sweet."

"I would never have thought it. Is he going to take her to the prom?"

"That's what I'm planning. I'm sorry but I've made Wendy believe that she's sorta going with me just so she would turn Stan down if he asked. Then I'll dump her for you and Cartman can pick up her pieces," he winked at her, pleased with his plan.

"There's just one problem with that," Bebe pulled away and put her hands on her hips, "I'm going to the prom with Kyle."

Kenny's jaw dropped, "You're what?"

"I'm going with Kyle," she shrugged, "I put his head between my boobs. He asked. I said yes. And I like Kyle because he looks so cute in those glasses of his."

"You've just ruined my plan!"

"Tough! Who says Wendy even wanted to go with that fat asshole?"

"My plan was going to perfect. Me and my best bud going to the prom with the two most gorgeous girls in the school."

"Not gonna happen," Bebe shook her head, "You're going to have to think of another way to make Cartman still like you after what you're going to do with his Mom."

"You know?" Kenny was not enjoying his shower very much anymore.

"The whole school knows now," she told him, "And it's only a matter of time before he knows. He is going to kill you."

"Aww crap," Kenny groaned.

"Hey I'll cheer you up," Bebe smirked and ran a hand down Kenny's front, dropping slowly onto one knee. Kenny's eyes dropped to look at her hand as it slid across his belly and down to his…

"Eww! There's a boy in here!" a very nasally voice bellowed and echoed through the girls locker room.

Kenny barely had a moment to process the fact that he had been discovered before many female hands were grabbing him and tugging him away from Bebe. He might have stopped to enjoy the sensation of so many women touching him at once when Red slapped Kenny across the face.

"Get out of here you little bastard!" She grabbed a fistful of his hair while other girls grabbed his shoulders and arms. They marched him to the door and chucked him bare assed outside.

Still covered in suds and with nothing to cover himself up, Kenny watched as everyone in the hall burst out laughing, some wolf whistling at his appearance.

Standing up and with one hand covering his privates Kenny knocked on the door of the locker room.

"Can I at least get my clothes? Come on! I'm naked here….for the second time this week!"

There was no answer because several of the girls were shouting at Bebe and Kenny could hear them very clearly.

"Please? I need my clothes!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And so I'm not so sure if I want to live in a world that has Hayden Christensen appear at the end of Return of the Jedi instead of Sebastian Shaw," Kyle was complaining to Stan as they made their way up to Cartman's house, "I mean the poor guy is dead. And he can't kick George Lucas's ass for cutting him out of the movie."

"It's only ten seconds of cinema Kyle," Stan was smiling fondly as he stared at the ground, just listening to Kyle rant.

"Yeah but it's a fucking painful ten seconds. I mean, I feel like just spending a couple of days at my computer and putting together what should be the real version of Star Wars."

"You would as well," Stan snorted, "You're such a big dork."

"Hey! At least I'm not a big Trekkie," Kyle hit Stan's arm.

"Oh so big blobs of flab and a big black guy with asthma is cool and men with big ears is not?"

"Well duh. Big ears and skin tight uniforms are totally gay."

"You're both gay dorks and if you don't shut the fuck up then no pizza for you," Cartman was bitching as he struggled to fit his key in the lock, having to drop his bag in order to unlock the door.

Kyle rolled his eyes and Stan grabbed his arm, spinning Kyle around to face him.

"Tell me Kyle," Stan said intensely, "You've seen the Star Wars Holiday Special haven't you? Look me in the eyes and tell me _honestly_ that Star Wars is cooler than Star Trek."

Kyle's eyes glinted mischievously and he took a step closer to Stan, "Star Wars is cooler than Star Trek."

Stan reached up and grabbed a handful of Kyle's hair and tugged the poor young man's head under his arm pit, rubbing his knuckles roughly into Kyle's scalp.

"Take it back," Stan fingers kept getting caught in Kyle's curls but he kept the torture up, tormenting the Jewish boy with a noogie, "Forty years strong and it's always been cooler!"

"Let me go Trekkie!"

"Trekkies are so much stronger than you wussy Wookie boys," Stan was laughing as he pulled at Kyle's hair, making him yelp and struggle, only hurting himself more in Stan's grip.

Kyle punched Stan in the side and a temporarily winded Stan let go of Kyle's head, backing off and wheezing slightly, "There's no fucking way that crappy phasers could beat a lightsabre."

"Maybe," Stan conceded for a moment," but a Vulcan neck pinch is ten times cooler than a force choke."

"No it isn't," Kyle snorted, "How can it be cooler? I mean its like, 'hey look! No hands!' Darth Vader could choke all of the Vulcans before they could get anywhere near him!"

"Listen," Stan tried to be reasonable, "we're both big fans of Star Trek and Star Wars. Let's just be mature and admit that Star Trek is cooler."

"It is not!" Kyle jumped on Stan and half jokingly he pummeled his fists into Stan's stomach.

When Stan coughed a little Kyle looked triumphant and laughed, "You are beaten! It is useless to resist! Don't let yourself be destroyed as Obi-wan did!"

"If you two are finished with foreplay then you can come in now," Cartman was glaring at them from his front door, throwing his backpack inside.

"Foreplay?" Kyle snorted and shook his head looking very offended, "Stan just can't admit when he's wrong, that's all!"

"Star Whore," Stan gave Kyle a small shove and entered Cartman's house before him.

"Hey at least Star Whores get sex," Kyle began to rant again, "Trekkies are despised and hated and loathed the world over. And they sweat too much too."

Cartman tried his best to drone the two guys out. He had invited Stan around in the hope that he could at least have a normal sort of conversation and try to get over his horrible day at school but Kyle had invited himself along. Now he would have to sit and listen to those two bickering hens instead of relaxing. So he abandoned all hope and made his way to the fridge to look for something incredibly chocolaty.

"What are they arguing about sweetie?" Liane asked pleasantly. She was sitting looking through some letters and having coffee.

Cartman stared at her for a second. She looked almost normal sitting there. Like a normal Mom doing normal things like checking bills and writing letters. But Cartman would bet a hundred dollars that his mother had far more risqué things in those letters than bills.

"Does it matter?" Cartman shoved a doughnut into his mouth, "They're both stupid gaywads."

Liane looked up from her letters when Stan and Kyle entered, breaking out into a big smile and jumping up from her seat to greet them. She tapped Stan's forearm affectionally and took a few steps back to appraise Kyle. She grinned even wider as she looked Kyle up and down.

"Oh you've gotten so tall!" she gushed at him, "You are really looking fantastic. But oh how does your poor mother cope with your height?"

Kyle shrugged and looked almost frightened, taking a step to the side and closer to Stan. Stan too looked a little bewildered as Kyle's arm brushed against his own.

"She figures something out," Kyle shrugged

Cartman frowned and coughed loudly.

"Sodas are in the fridge. Help yourself because I'm not getting it for you," Cartman lifted for himself another doughnut and abandoned all of the weirdoes, finding his favourite spot on the sofa that had adjusted to his weight and relaxed.

Kyle followed him shortly after, eating a banana. Due to certain homicidal incidences in Cartman's past the young Jewish man never ate anything in the Cartman house that wasn't pre-packaged or wrapped in its own skin. Stan had grabbed a coke and without bothering to ask he pulled out Cartman's game system and set it up, rifling through all of the disks.

"Is Kenny coming round?" Kyle settled next to Cartman.

"I don't let traitors come into my house. It's bad enough that I have Jews and queers in here without skanky man-whores polluting the place."

Kyle raised one eyebrow curiously and looked at Stan who was still cheerfully looking for the ideal game to play. He selected some space alien game and shoved it on.

"The graphics are good in this one," Stan said aloud, mostly to himself.

"What did he do?" Kyle asked; his mouth full of banana.

"It's more who did he do," Cartman licked the icing off of his fingers and wiped them on the side of the sofa.

"Well, you can get it out of your system because he's about to come through the door," Kyle half smiled, bits of the fruit caught between his teeth.

"You're not psychic Jew-boy," Cartman glared at him.

"No, just perceptive," he laughed and wiped his face, "can't miss that orange hoodie."

Kyle pointed towards the window and two moments later the door burst in and Kenny stood there, hands on hips and the widest grin in the world plastered all over his face.

"My naked body has just been touched by dozens of hot women and you're all jealous!" Kenny declared triumphantly.

There was silence for a few moments as everyone took the information in. It was Kyle that broke the silence with a droll remark.

"I'm green with envy," Kyle could not have been less green if he tried with his red hair and slightly pink cheeks.

"And how exactly were you naked with lots of women?" Stan asked curiously. Not even aliens could detract from Kenny's aura of self satisfaction.

"The same way Cartman's Mom is with men," Kyle sniffed sounding unimpressed, "he's a whore."

"You're all jealous," he smirked and then he yelled to a particular someone he hoped was somewhere in the house, "Oi! Liane I'm hungry!"

"We're having pizza," Liane called back from the kitchen.

"Pepperoni?"

"Yes, Kenny dear."

"Oh cool," Kenny said, scratching the side of his head, "Your Mom is like the best in the whole wide world Eric."

"She gives good pizza," Kyle muttered and threw his banana skin to the side.

Kenny hesitated a little in the door way before he moved closer to the sofa, his grin beginning to fade, "You'll never guess what else I did today."

Cartman felt like he was having a small seizure. His muscles had tightened up, he was gritting his teeth and it took him all his self control not to launch himself at the unsuspecting Kenny with murderous intent.

"I know what you did!" he seethed through clenched teeth.

Stan turned the game off, feeling the temperature of the room lower by several degrees. He met Kyle's eyes and both fidgeted a little uncomfortably, not wanting to be stuck between Cartman and the most likely soon to be deceased Kenny McCormick.

Cartman slowly got to his feet, his eyes narrowed and focused on only Kenny. He took two steps forward and the whole house seemed to shiver from his slow and heavy steps.

"You were with her."

"It's not what you think!" Kenny went very pale and threw his hands up in front of him, "honest!"

"I saw you together!" Cartman thundered, the rage he had been unable to express earlier had erupted to the surface.

"Saw who?" Kyle got up and looked ready to stand between them.

Cartman pointed a shaking finger at Kenny, "He was chatting Wendy up."

"Eric," Kenny edged behind Kyle, "I never touched her."

"Do I have a say in any of this?" Wendy's ex-boyfriend frowned from his place beside the TV.

"No!" Cartman's voice was poisonous, Kenny's frightened and Kyle was just trying to keep the peace.

"You knew!" Cartman's fists were clenched and he looked ready to aim for Kenny's cheek, wanting to kick seven shades of shit out of him, "You knew that I took her out and you still can't control your dick."

"For the last time I never touched her!" Kenny's voice got loud and annoyed, "And I know that you like her!"

"I don't like her," Cartman snorted.

"You do!" this time it was Kenny pointing the finger, "But I guess, as always, Eric Cartman is too much of an asshole to admit it. I was talking to her because I knew you liked her!"

With one brutally strong arm, Eric had swept Kyle aside and launched himself at Kenny. The scrawny young man fell backwards, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to get away. Cartman grabbed the back of the hoodie that he had once given Kenny and pulled him back, forcing his head under one arm and battering it with the other.

Stan jumped up from the floor and tried to get Kenny loose. Kenny was groaning every time he was struck and the blood from Kenny's busted lip was dripping onto Cartman's shirt.

"Come on you guys!" Stan cried out and tried to pull Eric's arms open. Kyle too grabbed Cartman from behind and was pulling him away from Kenny. When Stan finally had Kenny loose, bruised and bloody, he held him against himself for support, leading poor Kenny to the other side of the room. The only person physically able to control Cartman was holding Cartman's arms behind his back and was half choking him with the arm around his shoulders. Kyle struggled to keep a firm hold but he coped much better than anyone else would have done in the same position.

"Calm down Cartman," Kyle chanted into his ear, "You need to calm down. Just calm."

Cartman was panting and while his fists still looked ready to kill, the rest of his body was sagging; only his eyes were fiercely defiant. Kyle never loosened his grip and kept him still, noting the hateful look in those angry eyes. He thought himself lucky that he had not been in the receiving end of Eric Cartman's fury.

Kenny on the other hand looked a little weak and still a little terrified. But he addressed Cartman with a shakey voice.

"I wouldn't have done it Eric," he vowed, "I'd never have touched her."

"But you were there you skanky manwhore!" Cartman seethed.

"Yeah," Kenny admitted, "but I was talking to her for you."

"It didn't sound like that!"

"I know," Kenny sighed and wriggled out of Stan's grip, moving closer to the struggling Cartman and Kyle. "I know and I'm sorry."

"What were you talking to her for then?" Stan asked wiping Kenny's blood off of his top.

"Yeah, what gives?" Kyle frowned, confused by the whole situation

"Hey Laverne and Shirley! Shut up while Mom and Dad have a conversation alright?" Kenny snapped at them

"Yeah this is between us," Cartman tugged his arms free of Kyle's grip, "What the fuck were you doing?"

"Well…" Kenny began, looking away from Eric's face, "I hadn't wanted to tell you yet. It was supposed to be a nice surprise or something gay like that."

"The surprise will be you living to see tomorrow," Cartman threatened.

"But I'm not supposed to reveal my plan until it's a life or death situation," Kenny fumed, "You know like in the movies when the villain is about to kill the hero and does a monologue of his great plan."

"This IS a life or death situation Kenny," Kyle told him sternly.

"Fine," he looked back at Cartman, "It's just you never really catch a break. You never get the girl. So I was going to make Wendy think she was going with me to the Prom so Stan would be refused if he asked-"

"Oi!" Stan glared at him.

"Bad Stan!" Kenny was furious that he had been interrupted, "Very bad Stan!"

"The plan?" Cartman asked.

"Well yeah so she would not go with Stan and when I finally asked Bebe out then Wendy would be free for you to ask. Your date did not seem to go as great as I hoped so I guess I was trying to fix it."

"You did not need to fix anything!" Cartman declared, "I don't need your help!"

"Ok ok, "Kenny conceded, "the plan is sort of screwed now because of Kyle. He got to Bebe before I could."

"You're going with Bebe?" Stan sounded strangely disappointed.

"Yeah," Kyle shrugged, "Bebe's cool."

"But why dude?"

"Yeah asshole, you've wrecked everything!" Kenny frowned.

Kyle seem nonchalant about it all, "You've been between Bebe's boobs Kenny. You know why I asked. And your plan isn't ruined. Just dump Wendy and Cartman can ask her out again."

"And how exactly am I supposed to get laid now?" Kenny asked.

"Well you and Stan haven't asked anyone else yet," Kyle smirked, "Ask Stan out."

"Fuck no," Stan crossed his arms over his chest.

"And Stan won't put out for me," Kenny whined.

"He will," Cartman too had begun to smile, "everyone knows that Stan is gay."

"I am not!"

"Tough Stan," Kyle began to laugh, "Just don't stand still. If something stands still long enough Kenny will have sex with it."

"Boys! Dinner is ready!" Liane called from the kitchen and the smell of melted cheese wafted around the room making Cartman's mouth water on cue.

"About friggin' time!" he said with his stomach rumbling.

Stan and Kyle went through to collect their plates but before the ravenous Kenny got anywhere near the kitchen he was stopped. Cartman looked down at Kenny, ignoring his hunger so he could finally settle things in private.

"You stay away from her," Cartman whispered.

"Sure dude," Kenny could do nothing but obey.

"And cut the grass for me tomorrow, Ike messed it up," Cartman let Kenny go past.

"Sure dude," Kenny said again, beginning to feel a horrible dread in the pit of his stomach that overwhelmed his hunger. If Cartman could be so violent over Wendy then how on earth would he respond over the thing with his mother? Was everyone right? Would Cartman actually kill him for even considering the bet never mind taking the money?

But like it or not, Kenny needed that money. A point that was hit home when Stan looked up from his plate as if something had just caught his attention and stared at Kenny.

"So what happened to my camera phone?"

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**You know… as much as I love reviews (and lots of them) what would really make my day is a picture of our big Geeks fighting; Kyle winning of course (dressed up maybe? Hopefully?). **

**Sigh. My Dad made me watch all of the Star Trek Fortieth birthday programmes on the Sci-Fi channel and I didn't know if I was going to laugh or cry with hysterical boredom. We had a sorta similar argument except we didn't physically fight over it. We're not that Geeky. And it is his own fault for introducing me to Star Wars first.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I'm not talented enough to own South Park or anything by the Scissor Sisters. Get a clue.

Cszemis back! With her black converse lined with pink and her royal punk top. Oh yeah I'm back… like you care lol

You know, I think I was going to get lynched. Like seriouslah. If I didn't update soon then I think Shuggie and BroflovskiFan were just going to hang me by my own intestines or something. But University has been totally mad. I've spent the last three months carting recording equipment all around Glasgow, doing radio and TV interviews as part of my coursework. I would have lost weight if it wasn't for the fact that I stress ate too. (Sigh, le sucks) And so I'm half way through (I think). Sometimes I look at the whole situation and wonder why I started and then I remember. Because it's fun. And if it wasn't for my reviewers I would have stopped a long time ago (so review please! Gets my creative juices flowing easier)

I wrote most of the Kenny section listening to 'Lust for Life' by Iggy Pop and most of the Cartman section listening to Meatloaf's 'I'd Do Anything for Love.' Go figure. Never thought they'd help me write before LOL

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**Chapter 10**

Stan Marsh had not been happy. Not happy at all to discover that his phone was probably lying crushed somewhere, run over by countless drivers and pissed upon by local dogs.

He was even angrier by the fact that it meant he had lost all his phone numbers, all his text messages and all of his pictures taken with Kyle. It seemed to Kenny than Stan seemed more upset about losing his pictures rather than anything else and this was gradually leading him towards the conclusion that Stan Marsh was gay. Or one big pussy. Either and both may have been appropriate.

But the middle class, white Christian was determined that Kenny had to buy him a new phone, even poor white trash like Kenny. He had promised to take care of it after all. Where Kenny was supposed to get that sort of money was a mystery to everyone and it left Kenny with two options: screw Cartman's Mom and win that bet or screw Cartman by playing on his sympathies.

Eric Cartman did not have many sympathies to begin with, he seemed to think that Kenny had chosen to be born into poverty and it was his own fault that he sometimes went without meals, showers or more often than not, without clothes. Fortunately, the lazy fat ass was always willing to pay Kenny to do odd jobs around his house just so he would not have to do them himself. And if Eric Cartman said cut the grass then Kenny was going to be cutting the grass.

It badly needed cut with the incredibly short Colorado summer approaching but Kenny was very reluctant to do it. Because it was too fucking hot for one thing.

Kenny glared up at the sun as he struggled with the manual lawnmower. Too many of his deaths had been caused by motorised versions and he had sworn never to use one again. But it meant that cutting Cartman's grass was a lot more difficult and the sweat was pouring off of Kenny as the sun beat down. He had pulled off and thrown away his hoodie an hour ago and his hair was sticking to the sides of his face as he forced the lawnmower across the grass, wishing he was not the unluckiest boy in the world and could cut the grass like a normal person.

Kenny gave up for a moment and collapsed on the ground, his sweat causing the freshly cut grass to cling to his flesh as he lay gasping. But the sun still beat down relentlessly and his head hurt from the heat. He kicked off his smelly and scuffed shoes so his feet could get some air.

There were clouds on the horizon and Kenny guessed that despite the sun and the heat there would be a major storm coming soon. He reflected that considering the weather he was best to get the grass cut as quickly as possible but the heat had left him weak. The undernourished teenager gave up to the heat and closed his eyes.

Kenny might have fallen asleep but if he did it could not have been for very long. However his eyes flickered open and his chest tightened strangely as he heard a gentle tickling off ice against glass. He lifted his head from the grass, blades of green amidst his blonde strands. The person that stood before him was his saviour, an angel in a skimpy vest top and shorts that were entirely too short for someone of her age.

"I thought you might like a drink, Kenny dear," Liane smiled down at his prone form, holding up a jug of ice cold lemonade and a glass, "it is far too warm for cutting the grass."

Kenny put a hand over his eyes to see her better, his vision blurred by sweat and the sun, Cartman's Mom seemed to have a halo in the heat and her lemonade glowed like the elixir of life.

"Yeah… I shoulda done it some other time," he groaned and tried to pull himself into a sitting position.

"You don't need to cut our grass anyway," Liane set the jug and the glass on a small table, "Eric can cut it when he has time."

"He pays me to do it for him," Kenny crawled over to the table, not trusting himself to stand up without falling flat on his face.

"Oh yes, you're the poor one aren't you?" she asked pleasantly. If someone else beside Liane had asked him such a question Kenny would probably have hit them. But she was so good natured about it all and seemed to view poverty as a minor inconvenience.

"I guess you could say that."

"Why do you not use our lawnmower instead of that old thing?" Liane looked over at the manual lawnmower, "it does not even have a motor and you have to sweep up the grass afterwards."

"Because I like to live," Kenny greedily gulped down the lemonade, nearly choking on the ice cubes but extremely thankful that she had remembered them.

"Oh I have a lawn joke," Liane seemed entirely too cheerful for the heat.

"Yeah?" Kenny raised one eyebrow, bemused, "you like jokes then?"

"Of course," Liane seemed at times much younger than she actually was and her face glowed with sweat and happiness as she tried to remember the joke.

"Oh yes, the joke. Well a lesbian goes in for an operation, to have a hysterectomy…"

Kenny felt slightly ill. As much as he loved the female anatomy he did not like to know the ins and outs of the whole process.

"..And when the surgeon goes to shave her pubes so he can make the incision he notices the lesbian has a tattoo on her stomach saying "Don't tread on the grass."

"Uh huh…" Kenny took another big gulp.

"So when she wakes up hours later the surgeon has not only shaved her but stuck a sticky label to her bandages, do you know what it said?"

"No I don't."

"It said, 'Sorry sweetie, had to mow the lawn'."

Liane burst into laughter. Kenny merely snorted and sucked on an ice cube, letting it melt over his tongue.

"Oh dear," Liane said cheerfully, laughing at her own joke, "my poor son doesn't appreciate comedy."

"He just has a different idea of what's funny," Kenny spoke with his mouth full of ice, thinking to himself that Eric usually found painful and inappropriate things happening to Kyle extremely funny.

"He can be so hard to understand," the damn woman seemed happy even when something like that got her lowered her mood, "so angry, so cross all of the time."

"Not your fault he's an asshole," Kenny offered, "could be genetic or something."

Liane mused, "You know, it could be."

The pair was silent for a moment before Liane shrugged and turned to go back inside.

"Well, I better go and finish my exercises," Liane told Kenny, "you don't mind if I play some music do you?"

"No its fine," Kenny's eyes widened and wondered where about in the house she'd be doing exercises so he could spy, "you're going to be doing… stretches and stuff?"

"Oh no," she waved the suggestion away, "I'm going to do the exercises Eric gave me."

Kenny almost choked on an ice cube, "that Eric gave you?"

"Oh yes, today I have to chat to someone online and send them a file through the instantaneous massage thing. I'm learning to use the computer!"

"That's…cool," Kenny scratched the side of his head, "Cartman… makes you do stuff on the computer?"

"Only recently," Liane said, "it's time for me to get a proper job."

"There's something extremely fucked up about that," Kenny said to himself as Liane made her way back indoors. He turned his head around so he could watch her ass as she went inside and noted how pert it was.

He was finishing off the lemonade when a familiar tune began playing through the open windows of the Cartman house. Kenny recognised the song immediately and grinned to himself.

"Well I don't feel like dancing," he sang softly, standing up and moving back over to where the lawnmower had lain almost forgotten. Liane obviously had the new Scissor Sisters album.

They were not his favourite group but they were original enough for him to respect. In school it was only really the girls that liked the Scissor Sisters. No one seemed to know Kenny's taste in music but then no one really knew anything about him either. Kenny's tastes ranged from cringe worthy cheesy music to the fucked up hardcore but he was the sort of person that liked songs, not bands. Bands could not be trusted. Just because they had one good song did not mean they had an album full of fantastic material. And he had already wasted too much of his precious money on what turned out to be worthless albums.

Kenny thanked the Lord for the internet and the fact that Cartman now allowed him to download his favourite tracks to play on a CD. Cartman always deleted them off his computer afterwards as "they were seven shades of shit Kenny, you need a new taste in music."

Kenny lifted his head to regard Cartman's window where the fat ass was probably kicking back in the heat, curtains closed so the sun's rays would not destroy his evil self, drinking a bucket load of coke. He was probably laughing at Kenny's expense.

But heat or not, Kenny had the Scissor Sisters.

"But I don't feel like dancing when the old Joanna plays," sang the radio and Kenny hummed along, forcing the lawnmower across the grass, his head bopping from side to side, "My heart could take a chance but my two feet can't find a way. You'd think that I could muster up a little soft shoe, gentle sway. But I don't feel like dancin', no sir, no dancin' today."

When he got the end of the lawn, he span dramatically around in time with the music, probably frightening anyone that was nearby. He was not dancing, but he was not doing the norm either; he was making it fun.

Kenny was not regarded as the most musical of his group of friends and it was understandable. He was the perverted one, the one that would rather sit in and watch porn rather than learn to play an instrument. But he had the best voice in the school year. He just did not go around singing all the time like Kyle and Eric seemed to do. Hell, all of South Park seemed to keep bursting into song and everyone knew the words. God must not have linked Kenny up to the mind merge that had everyone else in town know the new lyrics instinctively.

"Mom!" a deep voice bellowed from Cartman's bedroom, "Turn that crap off!"

"Don't feel like dancin', dancin', even if I find nothin' better to do," Liane sang over the music while she worked on the computer, unable to hear him. "Don't feel like dancin', dancin'. Why'd you break it down when I'm not in the mood? Don't feel like dancin', dancin'. I'd rather be home with the one in the bed till dawn with you."

"Goddammit Mom! Shut that bullcrap off!" Eric was roaring and for a moment Kenny expected to hear that recognisable thump thump thump of fat footsteps. When none came he could not help but smirk. He had seen Wendy arrive and if Kenny was in Cartman's position right now then there was no chance in hell that he'd leave his bedroom either.

"Way to go fat ass," he laughed and gave the window a mock salute. He wanted to shout something really lewd, like "So does she have a Brazilian?" but he knew it would cost him a trip to hell to see Satan and his cronies. It would be even hotter down there and he couldn't bare the thought of it.

Kenny stopped to sweep up some blades of grass when a car driving too close to the kerb swung past. He stumbled and jumped away, landing on his ass and was smacked in the face by a cigarette butt flicked from the driver's side of the car. Kenny glared at the two young men in the car, Christophe, de'Mole, driving and smirking, Gregory's arm draped nonchalantly around the back of Mole's seat.

"You stupid bitches!" Kenny waved his broom at them furiously, "You're not fooling anyone you fag hags!"

Kenny could have sworn he heard Gregory chuckle but the car was already too far away for that to be even possible. Everyone knew that Mole was actually Greg's secret bitch, so secret that Mole did not seem to know but it was far too obvious from the way Gregory encroached into Christophe's personal space. In a way it reminded Kenny of the way that Stan seemed to be increasingly invading Kyle's personal space and he took another moment to ponder whether or not Stan was gay or just an emotionally clingy pussy that made poor people pay for new phones.

"Oi bitch!" Cartman called from his window as Eric realised his 'employee' was slacking, "Get off your ass and do some work!"

So Kenny went back to work. He had finished off the front lawn and was halfway through doing the back when the Scissor Sisters halted mid lyric. By this time the whole album was on repeat and had returned to singing about joyful murder when all the singing stopped. Kenny stopped too and looked curiously towards the house, wondering if the music had cost Eric some action but he could not hear those imposing footsteps at all.

He was about to start mowing again when he noticed Liane pacing in the living room. She appeared to be wringing her hands but the sunlight was reflecting off the window and he could not be sure. Wiping the sweat away from his brow he went over to the backdoor a little concerned. He was more than likely beginning to smell now but he felt a strange sort of sympathy (and plenty of lust) for that woman and wanted to make sure she was alright.

Liane met him at the backdoor, tears in her eyes, her hands shaking, "Oh Kenny, I've done something really bad!"

"What?" he asked, "Did you break the computer?"

"No," Liane's lovely voice shook, "but Kenny… but oh… they're going to arrest me!"

Kenny stared bemused, "arrest you?"

"Come and see!" she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. She led him to the computer where she had been surfing the internet and talking on MSN. She had an instant messenger box up but there was a warning in the middle of the screen.

THIS PROGRAM HAS PERFORMED AN ILLEGAL OPERATION.

At the sight of it Kenny burst into laughter. He had not seen that particular warning in years. He did not even think that computers used it anymore. But obviously the Cartman's were using an older version of Windows that generally existed to scare the shit out of people.

"This thing?" he pointed to the warning.

"Yes!" she cried, "I've done something illegal!"

Kenny shook his head, trying very hard not to laugh at her lack of computer expertise.

"So what were you trying to do?" he fought off the laughter.

"I was just trying to send a picture through MSN messenger and that thing showed up," she seemed very upset about it.

Kenny took both her hands and held them in his hands, clasping them together, "you haven't done anything. That's just stupid computer jargon stuff."

"I'm not in trouble?" she asked in disbelief.

"Hell no," he smiled encouragingly, "the software just had a little blip."

"But it said illegal…"

"Yeah but its not like the police are going to show up any second and bear mace you, Liane," he laughed, "its stupid computer crap. Usually new software doesn't have that message cause it did scare the shit out of people. You're not the only one that's had an illegal action."

"I'm not in trouble?" she sniffed, traumatised.

"Of course not," Kenny picked a couple of bits of grass out of his hair and looked closer at the computer screen, "who is SimplyConcerned by the way?"

"Oh that's Sheila," Liane seemed to be calming down a little bit.

"I didn't know you guys were good friends," he said.

She nodded, "ever since she moved to South Park."

Kenny would never have thought of it. To him, Liane and Sheila were polar opposites and their sons hated each other. And in the messenger box was the file for the failed picture, which appeared to be Kyle and Eric looking very sullen at being photographed together. This made him laugh even though he could not make out all the little details in the thumbnail.

He took a few minutes to show Liane how to send a file, explaining everything in a slower and clearer tone than Eric. It took a while as well because the computer was rather slow but a slow computer was a good thing for computer illiterate people like Liane. Soon she was able to do it herself and with more confidence, sending Sheila a few more pictures that she had of all four boys round at her house. Liane was actually quite a good photographer and Kenny wondered if she had any creative potential.

Any talents she did have was probably knocked to one side by her son, the over 6ft tank of a young man. Sitting side by side with Liane and studying her round, sweet face he could not help but feel sorry that she had ended up with Eric Cartman. Sure, mother and son loved each other but Eric did not treat her with the patience and respect she deserved and needed to flourish.

"Listen," he began, trying to not pay attention to the online conversation Liane was having with Sheila, "don't let Eric push you around. Learning how to use the computer is fine but he's got no right to push you around."

"He's doing what's best," she replied, "He knows what's best for me, for us."

"Yeah but you're the Mom," Kenny argued gently, "you're supposed to know what's best for him."

"What's best for him is an education," there was a painful expression on her face, "and because of me we can't afford it."

Kenny sighed, "I know. But it's not the end of the world. Eric's smart. Make him get a part time job."

"Me and Sheila have talked about that," she nodded, "there's a Pizza Hut opening up in South Park soon. Sheila thinks we should get job applications for the boys."

"Well that's a good idea, and Eric will be pleased to hear there's finally going to be a Pizza Hut. He's going to put on shit loads more weight though," he laughed.

"My little fatty," Liane said softly as if she was worried Eric might hear her.

"Yeah!" Kenny smiled, "and you're a good photographer. Why not make a career out of that or something? Instead of computer or office stuff?"

"That'd be nice," Liane smiled back, "I almost went to art school you know."

"I didn't know actually."

"You're so nice Kenny," Liane breathed, gazing at him affectionally, "you're a really good guy."

"Nah," Kenny waved the suggestion away.

"It's a shame you're not older," Kenny froze when she said that, "but how old are you?"

"I'm nearly 17," Kenny tried to make himself sound older than he was.

"Oh?" Liane turned away from the computer and studied him closely.

Kenny felt something he rarely felt before. Usually it was him that checked people out, admiring their asses or big boobs. And yet here he was, with grass in his hair, no shoes, grass stains on his very sweaty clothes and his face still moist from all the manual work. Yet Liane took in each of these details and just smiled more, liking what she saw.

He laughed nervously before he realised he was doing so. As much as he lusted after Liane and had agreed to the bet he never imagined actually getting together with her. That was just some wet dream fantasy for when his mind was idle.

"I never really get to meet nice guys," Liane spoke softly, a lustful twinkle in her eyes, "Eric always scares them away."

"Bastard," was all Kenny was able to say.

Liane scooted to the edge of her seat and closer to Kenny, running a hand up his arm and stroking his shoulder, "I have a bottle of wine in the kitchen…" her voice suddenly husky.

Kenny stared in amazement. This woman had went from shy, gentle mother to potential sex queen in less than two seconds, not even Kenny could pull that off. A warmth radiated through him and he began to wonder what it would be like to kiss a much older woman.

"I'm not all that nice Mrs Cartman," Kenny told her but she leaned across anyway. She grabbed his earlobe and pulled him in for an explosive kiss.

* * *

"I hate Craig," Cartman was rambling, but he had nothing else more interesting to say and for some reason he thought it was best to reveal his enemies to the one person who would probably care about it. 

"I hate him. I hate his Lollerskates hat. I hate the way he just flips me off all the time. I mean, what sort of an asshole flips people all the time? Not even the sons of bitches that deserve it get flipped off. Just me and my friends. I hate him so much."

"Uh huh," Wendy looked rather bored but she smiled wryly back at him.

"I'm so going to put my fist through his face one day," things were not entirely going well for Cartman.

He had invited Wendy around to his house and he has been pleasantly surprised when she agreed. No doubt she had been expecting more "take over the world" speeches for her to enjoy but Cartman found himself rambling instead. He felt like his mouth was a typewriter and whoever was typing simply had far too much to say. Wendy had already heard 42 reasons why Jewfros were stupid and a further 36 on Kyle's back freckles and Cartman was sure that at any moment she would be heading out of the door and leaving him, realising that he was far less interesting than he actually was.

But the young lady simply kept smiling at him and occasionally raised her eyebrow. Eric wondered whether or not she was assessing all his hates and mentally storing them because she did not talk very much. True, she did not have the space in which to talk. Everytime there was silence Eric found himself with a few hundred extra things to say, unable to bear her quiet contemplation.

He tried to shut up for a second and let the silence come, his palms sweating as he figured that Wendy did not particularly care how much he hated Craig. Wendy sat sweetly at the edge of his bed and gazed at him expectantly, no doubt expecting more verbal diarrhoea. Eric fidgeted and moved an inch closer to her on the bed, feeling the blood beginning to drain into his face. He always hated when that happened. With his fat pink cheeks and matted brown hair he would begin to look like Miss Piggy with a bad hair day.

"You hate him because you both want the same thing," Wendy spoke eventually, giving him an amused sideways glance.

Eric reflected that Wendy had no real idea what he wanted. He was trying his best not to want to pin Wendy down on the bed and ravish her with kisses.

With his eyes admiring her beautiful swan like neck he asked her, "So what do I want?"

She elbowed him playfully in the ribs, "You both want to be the alpha male."

"Alpha? Is that not more Greek stuff? Don't refer to fucking classics dude; I'm not in the mood."

"No silly," she laughed, "you both want to be the boss. You think of yourself as the boss of your little group of friends, even the boss of Kyle, and Craig thinks he's the boss of his group. And that's not enough for people like you two. You'd both like to rule the whole school, be the bully and the one that gets all the respect."

"I get respect," he muttered, "people that don't respect me get kicked in the nuts."

"What does Craig do when people don't respect him?"

"I don't know. Probably some gay-ass fairy thing, clicking his fingers and then flipping the bird. I fucking hate Craig, that buttfucking asshole."

"Don't use that language with me," Wendy narrowed her eyes at him and Eric was strangely shocked into obedience. "I don't like when you swear."

Cartman blinked and shut his big, fat mouth.

"That's better," Wendy nodded and looked around his room, "so why did you invite me around this time?"

"Wendy, why is it every time I ask a favour or just want some company you think I have some little scheme going?"

"Because every time you do ask someone for a favour or for company you do have a scheme going."

Cartman crossed his arms across his chest with a "Humph! I'm not plotting a goddamn thing."

"Shame, I like when you are plotting something," Wendy laughed to herself.

"Oh?" he looked at her puzzled.

"Well," she began, "if it wasn't for the fact you are lazy, ignorant, kinda naïve at times, lazy…"

"Oi! You said that already!"

"… and a little too reckless than you would be the smartest person in our year. You never think things through all the way to the end and you don't always apply yourself, but you've got a hell load of potential in that head of yours," Wendy raised her eyes to look at the top of his head where Cartman's evil but extremely silly brain festered away.

"Erm… thank you?" Eric wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. It felt more like an insult but his heart thumped wildly when she said he was smart.

"You're welcome," Cartman realised what he liked best about her smile; it was an encouraging smile. But whether or not encouraging Cartman was a good thing remained to be seen.

"So you can plot all you want," she placed one hand on the bed and leaned towards him, "I honestly don't mind."

With Wendy in such close proximity his face began to go very red again and his pulse fluctuated wildly. At that moment Michael Moore could have suicide bombed the house and Cartman would have been unable to move, the nerve endings attached to his limbs had got high and wandered off and he could not stop the blood draining into his face and into other areas he would have rather not.

Seeing him flush and his eyes glaze over a bit, Wendy grew rather concerned and gave him a little shake, "Eric?"

"Fine!" he replied a little too loudly, "everything is ok!"

"You spaced out on me for a minute there," she touched his forearm gently.

"I was plotting… Seriouslah."

"No you weren't, you always get a little crinkle in the middle of your forehead when you plot. You looked kinda unwell."

"I'm fine, fine, fine," he tried to laugh uncomfortably.

He coughed a couple of times to clear his throat of the heart that had taken residence there, "but yeah I asked you round cause I have a problem."

"Uh huh?" that encouraging smile again.

Slowly, and with as much confidence as he could muster, Cartman began to explain his problem. He tried to be nonchalant about it all, as if it did not really matter, but somewhere deep inside, the longing to leave South Park and everything else swore that if Wendy did not help him then he might as well go and eat junk food. With any luck he might have a heart attack before his 21st birthday.

"I hate South Park," he explained.

"Who doesn't?" she let him explain.

"No, I really, really hate it. It makes me want to blow the whole place up sometime. The only people that actually enjoy living here are too old to know the difference," Cartman did not envy the parents of South Park. They would boast proudly about their firm roots in Colorado but to Cartman it sapped all their creativity, all their intelligence, until they ended up as soulless and as uninteresting as Demi Moore.

"My only route outta this dump is college," Cartman studied the curve of Wendy's hips and the corner of his mouth twitched, almost into a smile.

"I'm hoping to go to the University of Colorado," Wendy nodded, "they have a journalism and media department there. I don't want to go so far away at first."

"They have political science too," he agreed.

She elbowed his arm with a smirk, "Still chasing the Presidency huh?"

"I'm not chasing the Presidency. I already know its mine. I just need to get there is all."

"Then what's your problem?" Wendy enjoyed being in the company of people that actually had direction in their life.

"I'm an asshole."

"Pardon?" she lifted one eyebrow.

"I'm a lazy, arrogant, self-serving, racist asshole," he muttered, remembering how tactfully Mr Mackey had tried to explain that to him without using any of those terms.

"That's always served you well in the past Cartman," she laughed, not noticing his frustration.

"It's not funny," he glared at her, "unlike some people I haven't always got A's or been part of any charity work or excelled in anything anywhere. Some people are hated by the teachers and it's not like they'll get good references from their no-good friends either."

She bristled at that, feeling a little offended by his hate for teachers' pets.

"Some people have no extra curricular activities apart from the occasional student rampage to destroy the school. Some people have had behavioural problems since they were a little brat. Some people can't be trusted Wendy."

"I'd like to think I could trust you," she told him.

"Then you're one in a million, one in a million of faggy assholes that don't give a shit."

"So what are you going to do?" Wendy asked, running a hand through her hair, moving some strands of hair out of her eyes.

"What we're going to do actually," he had been brought the part he needed her help for, "Now if I got a little fitter I could make a place on the football team next year. God knows the rest of the pussies on that team need all the defence they can get. But I was thinking… this school doesn't have a debate club…"

"Yeah," Wendy agreed, "it really pisses me off. Do you have any idea how many times I've asked for one? I'd set it up myself but the principal says that not enough people would be interested."

"Well I'm interested," he looked at her levelly, "you said yourself I'm a good public speaker. So that makes two and that stupid Jew is always looking for stuff to go on his applications so I'm sure Jew boy would tag along."

"That's three," Wendy was running it through in her head.

"You could have Bebe come too," he came up with more suggestions, "she doesn't need to do anything. She can just stand there and distract the other team with her boobs. You can convince her right?"

"So that's four," she counted on her fingers, "we could even maybe convince Pip."

"No, the French don't know how to debate. They only know how to say no and then let everyone walk all over them if there's war."

Wendy laughed and patted his shoulder affectionally, "One day you are going to learn that Britain and France are not the same country."

"It's all stupid European crap, who gives a shit about Pip?"

"Well he's actually quite smart Eric," she said, "and it would show cultural diversity. We'd get bonus points by including overseas students."

"Anyway," he did not want to actually voice his agreement, "that's potentially five people. Even if we set it up for ourselves. It'd look really good on our applications if we set up something like that."

Wendy nodded and her eyes twinkled, "The principal has always said no. Do you think she would dare to say no to you?"

"Hell no," he smirked, "she knows I'd kick her in the nuts."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," she laughed, "I can be the brain and you're the brawn."

"Wendy," he shook his head with a smile, "I remember what you did to Miss Ellen. I'm not the brawn here."

"Yeah but you're like the Darth Vader of High School. You can terrify everyone so easily."

"Should I always wear black then?" he leaned closer to her. Having played on her aspirations, Eric was beginning to feel that Wendy was relaxed in his presence. It probably meant nothing to her that he wanted to kiss her lips or touch her hair. Wendy needed to see him as a friend before he could move her onto the next level. And he would have to take it slowly like he was doing now. Leaning in here, a compliment there and Wendy's female heart was sure to fall for him.

"No way, you'd look like an emo," Cartman smirked, "or like a killer whale."

He glared at that, "Thanks a lot, ho."

"Oh come on! I'm teasing!" she protested with a smile.

"I don't make fun of your chicken legs, don't make fun of my…"

"Thunder thighs?" she interrupted and Cartman balled his fists.

"Shut the fuck up," something hot had seared through his chest and he could feel himself beginning to shake with anger.

"You know I'm only joking," Wendy frowned, studying him, "everyone makes fun of your fat ass."

"Doesn't mean I like it!" he raised his voice and stood up, feeling the need to leave the situation. He couldn't leave entirely, it was his house, but all those foolish wishes to have her close to him seemed to have shrunk and the very idea of Wendy making fun of his weight gave him severe heartburn.

"I'm not fat!" he was almost shouting, beginning to pace from one side of the room to the other, unable to look at her.

Wendy sat wide eyed on his bed, unable to understand what had brought this little tantrum on. She took careful note of how his cheeks flushed when he was angry and how heavily he began to breathe. She had not seen behaviour like this from him in several years. Eric was usually the silently evil and pissed off type, preferring to destroy a person mentally and emotionally rather than physically. But she had obviously hit a sore point and now he seemed more like an enraged rhino, storming through his room, his footsteps shaking the floor.

"Eric, what's wrong?" she asked soothingly.

"Kiss my fat, hairy ass ho," he snapped.

Wendy thought for a moment, "Present it."

That stopped him in his tracks, "Huh?"

Wendy's lips curled into a smile, "Present your hairy ass," she took care not to mention the F word.

Cartman was absolutely taken aback. Only one person had ever replied to him like that and Ms Choksondik was long dead, "You'd…. kiss my ass?"

"I don't particularly want to," she shrugged, "but if it makes you stop acting like a bitch then fine."

"You don't…" his face was no longer red with anger but had transformed into an embarrassed shade of rosy pink, "you don't deserve that sort of brutality."

"I guess I just didn't realise how sensitive you were about your weight," Eric scoffed at this but Wendy stood up and touched his arm, "I'm sorry."

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "S'ok ho."

"I would like us to be friends," she put one arm around his shoulders, having to practically stand on her tiptoes to do so; "you're far more interesting than most people I know."

"Interesting is good?"

"Of course it is," she gave him a small hug, "but don't be so bitchy about your weight. What's that phrase? More cushion for the pushin?"

Cartman stiffened but he managed to smile, "More to hang onto?"

"Yeah, every penny doesn't fit in the slot," Wendy was as warm as a Testaburger could be, and they were renowned for being quite cool and sensible people.

She gave him another small squeeze and a blissful smile appeared on Cartman's face, "We ok now?" she asked him.

"Totally," he drawled.

"Well could you allow me one big favour?" Wendy asked.

"Anything," Eric breathed.

"Can I use your computer a second? It's downstairs, right? Some asshole has been leaving messages on MySpace, MoStLyRaTs or something like that. Totally random abuse."

"Want me to find their IP address and track them down?" Eric smirked and crackled his knuckles.

"No, no, it's cool," she headed towards his door, "You know I can handle myself."

"I'll be down in a second," he nodded and she disappeared.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and, out of sight of the rest of the world Eric Cartman had his first warm and genuine smile. For once everything seemed right in his world and even though she had made fun of his weight Wendy did seem to like him. She even gave him a hug. Nobody really ever hugged him, not even when he was small. It had felt nice.

He took another minute of happy contemplation before heading on downstairs. He was whistling and his footsteps were much lighter. And he felt even better when he saw Wendy at the entrance to the living room. She was staring in and looked rather horrified. She practically jumped when Cartman came up behind her.

"What's wrong? Mom naked again?" he asked with a small laugh and pushed her gently to the side.

Kenny and his mother were sitting side by side on the sofa. Kenny was deathly pale, as if he had just gotten the fright of his life but Liane seemed relaxed, picking up a glass of wine that was on the coffee table.

"Hello Eric," she said brightly and sipped at her wine.

Kenny thrust himself to his feet and stuttered, "everything ok dude?"

"All is good Ken," Eric clapped him heavily on the back, "better than good in some ways."

"Yeah?" Kenny was still very pale and he could not meet Cartman's eye, looking from side to side like a terrified animal.

"You look ill Ken. You should go home," Cartman was feeling generous, "you can finish the garden some other time. It's cool. And I'll pay you twice for it too since it'd be like two shifts."

"C-cool," Kenny seemed horrified and bewildered and Cartman reflected that he must really seem like a bastard if even Kenny was shocked that he would be so generous with money. He thought to himself that he should stop being such a tight fisted Jew and be nicer to Kenny. Maybe raise his wage to $6 an hour.

He thrust his thumb in the direction of the computer and spoke to his mother, "You finished?"

But her eyes appeared to be on Kenny, "Not yet."

* * *

**READ AND REVIEW PLEASE**


	11. Chapter 11

Hey… just wanted to let people know that I'm really sorry for taking so long to update, but I've not entirely been well. Not physically, more emotionally. I've been really depressed, got no self respect, crying at the slightest little thing. And unlike some I don't like to write when I'm upset because I end up deleting it. Anyway, deepest apologies.

But guys, I expect South Park fans to be able to take things with a pinch of salt so don't be so upset to see a religious figure here. And the thing He says in the italics is actually a company slogan in the UK. Yes this means a lot of people won't get the joke but if you can't be bothered to live on such a tiny island then that's your problem LOL Just kidding mon amis.

**Chapter 10**

"Ike," Kyle was seething, "you are supposed to be a genius. A fucking genius!"

Ike just grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

"You think this is funny?" Kyle was finding it difficult to restrain his anger, any moment and he could be kicking the crap out of his little brother, "YOU THINK THIS IS FUCKING FUNNY?"

"Well yeah!" Ike was threatening to burst out into hysterical laughter.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Kyle waved his shirt around, standing in his kitchen in only his dress trousers, "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A GENIUS! NOT A FUCKING RETARD!"

"Language, Kyle!" Gerald shouted from the living room.

"WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT YOUR RED SOCKS WOULD GO IN WITH A WHITE SHIRT? HAVEN'T YOU HEARD OF SEPARATING YOUR COLOURS FROM YOUR WHITES? ARE YOU THAT FUCKING STUPID IKE?"

By this point Ike was bent over double laughing, the whole situation was already funny and the expression on Kyle's face was too much to bear.

"IT'S PINK, IKE!" Kyle screamed, waving his only white dress shirt around. Well, a couple of hours ago it had been white, now it was a rather pretty shade of pink.

It had been Ike's turn to do some washing as part of Sheila's master plan to make her sons more independent and allow her more free time to protest or watch television. But the kid did not know very much about the whole process, leaving it mostly to Kyle to figure out. This time around Kyle had spent too much time on an assignment from Mrs Spinks, translating the "Get thee to a nunnery" scene into modern day English, and he had entrusted Ike with the responsibility.

Ike did not seem to care that his mistake meant that plenty pairs of underwear and socks were now also glorious shades of pink, including his own. Kyle's reaction was all that mattered right now.

"Do you have any idea how much this fucked up?" Kyle was trying to lower his voice, "I have red hair! I HAVE RED HAIR IKE!"

"No shit," Ike chuckled.

Kyle held his only dress shirt up beside his head and pointed furiously between it and his own head of hair "RED! PINK! RED! PINK! RED! PINK! DO THEY LOOK LIKE THEY GO?"

"Stop whining you big baby," Ike rolled his eyes, "it's not like it matters."

"Of course it matters!" Kyle shouted, "I have to wear this now! I'm going to look like an idiot!"

"You always look like an idiot," Ike squeaked when Kyle lunged towards him and made a mad dash out of the kitchen, Kyle giving chase.

"I'M GOING TO TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB YOU STUPID LITTLE JEW!" Kyle screamed.

"Stop being anti-Semitic boys," Sheila barely blinked, now more used to hearing such comments from her sons.

"I'm going to hurt you so bad!" Kyle tried to grab the bottom of Ike's pants but the kid was too quick for him and had legged it up the stairs before Kyle could attack him.

"You better run you little asswipe!" Kyle yelled up the stairs, still clutching the shirt tightly in one hand.

"Kyle, don't call your brother an asswipe," Gerald did not even look up from the television.

Grumbling and muttering under his breath, Kyle went back into the kitchen to iron his ruined shirt. Cursing his brother to Abraham he pressed down furiously on the material, hating pink and everything about it. It clashed so horribly with his hair. He decided that if he was going to be made to wear this monstrosity then he would bear his mother's disapproval and wear his philosophy belt. It was just a normal leather belt but it held the answer to the life, the universe and everything. Or to be more precise, it had the number 42 engraved on the buckle.

He was humming the Journey of the Sorcerer theme when the phone rang, and rather than leaving it for his parents to answer, he picked it up himself and balanced it precariously under his chin while he ironed.

"Ello?" Kyle asked.

"Hey dude," Stan replied, "sup?"

"My stupid asstard brother dyed my shirt pink," Kyle grumbled.

Stan laughed for a few seconds and Kyle stopped ironing for a moment to mentally glare at his best friend, "Aww dude, that's weak."

"Yeah well the joke is on him too," Kyle sighed, "all his socks are now pink as well."

"Just wanted to know if you wanna see a movie?" Stan asked, "At the multiplex or at mine? You know… whatever."

"I'd love to," Kyle admitted, "but we're celebrating Sedar."

"Ok, Jews are celebrating planks of wood now?" he could picture Stan smirking.

"No you idiot," Kyle tried to straighten the collar with one free hand to allow him to iron it properly, "We're having a late Passover."

"That's one late Passover dude. That was weeks ago!"

"Yeah," Kyle sighed," but my Mom's friend never got to celebrate it and she invited him around. So I can't come out and instead I have to look like orphan Annie or something."

"Who's her friend?" Stan asked just as Kyle ran the iron over the finger keeping the collar straight.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Kyle screamed and nearly dropped the iron, sticking his finger immediately in his mouth while the pain seared through his nervous system.

"Bad Jew. Hell of a good Christian though," Stan was laughing.

"I FUCKING BURNT MY FINGER!" Kyle whined through the phone and hung up on his best friend. It was probably a rather rude thing to do but it was better than swearing until he turned blue.

He rushed to sink and hissed with pain as the cold water stung through his burnt skin, trickling down his finger and dripping uselessly into the sink.

"Fuck, shit, fuck," believe it or not, rational and sensible Kyle was the one with anger management issues and he swore more than a drunken redneck, "damn, cunt, fuck, pussy, butthole, crap, ass, douche, boner, fuck."

"Kyle, don't make me wash your mouth out with kosher soap," Sheila yelled in from the living room. The parents were aware of what happened but unless her children's minds or bodies were being harmed by an outside influence Sheila did not particularly care.

"I fucking burnt my finger, Ma," Kyle moaned and sucked his at his finger when he felt that the cold water had done all it could do.

"Bubbie, you need to hurry up and get ready," she called in again, "He's going to be here in five minutes and what in God's name would He think if I had half naked boys running around my house."

"He'd probably think we're a normal, fucking, happy family," Kyle muttered to himself as he finished ironing his shirt. He did not do a good job of it but that was to be expected with his injury. After five more minutes of pressing down and glaring at the offensive piece of material Kyle finally gave up and threw it on, slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoning downwards. Since there was no one around his undid the top buttons of his trousers to tuck in his shirt neatly, the pinkness almost burning into his flesh like the iron.

He then ran upstairs to put on his shoes and to fetch his belt. He was in the middle of doing up the belt when the doorbell rang and a shrill voice shouted up to him,

"Answer the door Kyle," Sheila yelled, suddenly a hurricane of activity as she went to make sure everything was ready.

"I have to do everything around here," Kyle groaned and went to open it. He did not particularly care who was at the door and was far more interested in getting the buckle to sit straight when he answered.

"You know," the man at the door said, "I checked with My Father in Heaven and He says the answer to life, the universe and everything is not 42."

Kyle looked up in disbelief, "Jesus Christ?"

"Of course I disagree," Jesus smiled at him, "Until He provides mankind with the proper question and the correct answer then the number 42 sounds quite reasonable to me."

"You are our guest?" Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. He had still not stepped back to allow the Son of God over the threshold of the house and was subconsciously being very rude.

"Your mother invited me," Jesus shrugged, "She's such a nice lady despite everything."

There was a pause and then Jesus sighed, "Are you going to let me in then, young Kyle?"

Still disbelieving, Kyle finally stood back from the door to allow Jesus to enter. Why the hell was his mother inviting Jesus Christ to a Jewish dinner?

"Because I am Jewish," Jesus answered his question and Kyle jumped, "and don't say hell. It's a nasty place."

I didn't say anything, Kyle thought to himself and waited to see if Jesus would answer but he did not.

Half an hour later and the family and their guest were enjoying Sheila's roast lamb shank bone and chicken wings, the adults enjoying a few glasses of wine with their meal as they shared some matzo. Kyle and Ike meanwhile were painfully enjoying kicking each other under the table.

"Oh thanks for letting me celebrate Sedar with you guys," Jesus was saying while they ate, "I never thought I'd get the chance because of Easter. Do you have any idea how many blind people I've had to cure recently? I felt like turning around and saying _"Well you should have gone to Specsavers!" _

Gerald seemed less than thrilled that Jesus was present and raised a cynical eyebrow at the Saviour, "but surely God is proud of you? Being able to heal people and everything?"

Jesus smiled and rolled his eyes, "Yeah. My Dad's always like "Oy vey, my son, the doctor," this and that to all his angel friends," he put on a stereotypical accent and laughed to himself.

But Gerald was not impressed and glared "And what accent is that supposed to be Jesus?"

"Eh…" He looked uncomfortable, realizing he had caused offence, "A Brooklyn accent?"

"Powers of the almighty and you can't even do a proper accent," Kyle scoffed, covering his mouth his hand. Jesus immediately glared at the redhead.

"Bit cheeky coming from a dude wearing a PINK SHIRT," Jesus scolded, "are you gay or just acting out?"

Ike burst out laughing and nearly fell off his chair while Kyle just frowned back, "is it not a bit cold in Colorado to be wearing a toga?"

Jesus sniffed, "it's not a toga!"

"Looks like one," Gerald agreed.

"BOYS!" Sheila was beginning to get flustered, unable to believe her family was being so inhospitable. Ike was one of the few actually being friendly but everything he said ended up being overrun with giggles and that meant poor Jesus seemed unsure if the youngster was making fun of him.

Ike was just unable to stand the fact that the longer Kyle wore the pink shirt, the redder his face became. The Canadian boy knew he was probably going to get the shit kicked out of him later but it was totally worth it to see Kyle transforming into a red, pink, orangey mess. If he was as fat as Cartman he would have begun to look like a beach ball.

Jesus had gone rather pink around the cheeks as well but only because He felt uncomfortable. He and Sheila had become good friends when the Son of God visited the local synagogue to look over some scriptures. You would have thought that living for over two thousand years would have been enough time to memorise all the holy books but He had found more interesting things to do with His time. He had been an expert at creating medieval swords, He had acted in the real Shakespeare's Globe and the best time of His life had been digging up ancient artifacts in Egypt with the man who discovered Tutankhamen's burial chamber, Howard Carter.

Right now His hobby was broadcasting, in all its forms. He was looking for background material for a new radio show he was planning when he had ran into Mrs. Broflovski running a bake sale for the cancer ward at Hells Pass Hospital. He had wanted to buy a pie but Sheila, realising he was Jewish by the shape of his nose, advised him against it because it contained ham. Thrilled to find someone accepting of his Jewish background, Jesus and Sheila hit it off over a few glasses of wine after the bake sale was over.

But it seemed the rest of the Broflovskis had little time for Sheila's new friendship as Gerald grilled Jesus on the period when Christianity started persecuting Jews, Kyle looked ready to kill someone and Ike was doing impressions of what Kyle would be like if he was more like Cartman.

It was a welcome relief when the phone rang again and Kyle was first up to answer it.

"Hey there sexy," a voice purred in his ear, "I got a little favour to ask ya, hot stuff. Is your fabulous ass able to help me out?"

"What do you want Kenny?" Kyle groaned and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh handsome," Kenny laughed, "You sound so stressed. Want me to come around and loosen up that ass of yours?"

"NO!"

"Oh, is that reserved only for Stan then?"

"My ass isn't reserved for anyone!" Kyle barked, drawing funny looks from his family and the guest.

"Of course not," Kenny drawled. He sounded more lustful than normal, "I was just calling to ask you something."

Pinching the bridge of his nose Kyle muttered, "What?"

"Do you guys have Liane Cartman's phone number? Her cell I mean."

"Why would we have that number?"

"Cause your mom and Cartman's Mom… are like… friends, surprisingly."

"No, my Mom is friends with Jesus Christ," Kyle grumbled in a low voice.

"Oh, is she converting?"

"NO!"

"Just get the goddamn phone number then fag," Kenny was laughing at him.

"I'm not a fag," Kyle began looking through the family's own phonebook.

"Listen Kyle, I believe you. But the world doesn't."

"I have a fucking number here for you," Kyle flipped open the book at C. Sure enough the Cartmans' were present, their address and a phone number was present. There was even a cell number listed and Kyle assumed that's what Kenny was asking for.

He read it out and Kenny repeated each number cheerfully, "What are you up to?" Kyle asked suspiciously.

"I'm not up yet."

"Goddammit Kenny!"

"There's nothing to worry about Kyle. I know what I'm doing."

"Kenny," Kyle protested," No. I mean, no. I know what you're doing. You are not having sex with her." Again Kyle drew funny looks from his family.

"Oh, one more thing," Kenny pretended he didn't hear, "Cartman's probably coming round to yours. He was talking about some argument thing. You two have so many arguments that I lose track."

"I am not babysitting Cartman while you go and have sex!"

While Sheila went pale with fury, Jesus simply rubbed his brow and shook his head, "…Oy."

* * *

"Well just because she feeds me well," Kenny half whistled and half sung to himself, and being such a good singer and being so happy he would sing all he damn pleased, "And she made me talk dirty in a pink hotel doesn't mean she's got eyes for me! She might just want my bones you see!"

Kenny spun on the spot rather dangerously, swinging the ladder tucked under his arm in a wide circle. The rucksack on his back swung almost as violently and banged against one of his shoulder blades but he barely noticed. He half strutted, half sauntered down the street, feeling on top of the world. His libido was on top form, testosterone was pumping through his veins and his hands and fingers longed to touch, caress and pretty much manhandle every inch of Liane Cartman.

Liane Cartman.

Now that was a woman. That was a damn woman. Not some stupid high school chick worrying about her hair and her grades. This was full bodied, curvy satisfaction in no way a girl could compete with. He finally completely understood why so many men found themselves naked when alone with her. Her appetite far exceeded even Kenny McCormick's and with her soft, feminine charms, sweet personality and a roaring libido, Liane Cartman was the definitive sex goddess.

And she would make him into a man. He knew it. He could see it. Or more accurately, his groin was positively aching for her and all considerations such as her rather heavyset son were flung to the wind.

A few passers by stared at Kenny as he made his way down the street and even without his determined strut he seemed entirely suspicious. The poorest kid in town, walking down the street, in a residential area, with a ladder. But he ignored them all and when he reached the Cartman home he immediately went around the back to set up the ladder. Out of sight of the neighbours, Kenny chose the window that led to the upstairs corridor and looked up the metal steps to heaven.

"Bada bap pada da da badada," Kenny hopped up each step, his insides whooping as he came closer to his destination," da da da da da bada bap pada da da da."

With an ease that should have alarmed him, Kenny broke into the house and tumbled into the corridor, scrambling to his feet and checking he had all his essentials. The house was absolutely deserted but that's how he wanted it. He had known it would be deserted. He wanted Liane to come home and find him ready and waiting, naked and perfect upon her covers. So he dashed into her bedroom and after he closed the doors he shut the curtains to keep the world away from his moment.

Dropping his rucksack onto the floor, Kenny stripped. Off went his hoodie; off went his shoes and his pants. Underwear? He wasn't wearing any. He didn't shiver in the cold air but instead went about his business, lust fuelling his every movement. He scattered rose petals all over Liane's bed and upon the floor, making a path from the door to the bed. He lit candles and sprayed the air with perfume, turning her seemingly innocent bedroom into a haven for sex. And as a final touch, he pulled a slightly bashed but still entirely delicious chocolate cake from the bottom of his rucksack.

He set it down on the bedside table with a smirk and pulled out one final thing. The baby oil made his skin gleam like a bodybuilder's, even with his slim hips and slightly malnourished frame and he spent a few minutes admiring its effects in the mirror. In this greased up state, the sex crazed youth settled himself on Liane's sheets and reached for her bedside phone.

He dialed each digit carefully and cradled the handset against his cheek.

Dropping his voice to a husky moan, he spoke.

"I'm naked. I'm horny. And I want you. Right here. Right now. I don't care what you're doing. Just get your peach of an ass back to your house before I spank it."

* * *

Eric Cartman was also on the top of the world but for entirely different reasons.

He was now convinced, completely and truly that Wendy Testaburger could very well learn to love him. She had been so sweet, so caring, teasing him only a little. She had looked so damn perfect on his bed and he longed to see her there again even if they were only talking.

Cartman was not sure if he was ready for sex quite yet. It was something he would never admit out loud but the weight issue bothered him more now than ever and he could not bear to imagine Wendy's disgusted face if she saw him full frontal.

But she still could love him. So sex didn't matter. If she could love him without any hesitation or ill will then Cartman would be happy forever. He could feel himself falling for her even more; he had gone beyond a simple crush and wanted for the first time in his life to have someone like a girlfriend in his life. Stan Marsh had been there already and Eric could remember how contented at times Stan seemed to be, as if nothing in the world was better than having Wendy Testaburger as your girlfriend.

So while his heart walked on thin air, his mind was focused in a way it had never been before. He saw his life and career in perspective. All the worrying about college and his grades vanished and instead he saw a check list. Things had to be done and they would be done. He would start a debate team. He would gain more extra curricular activities; he would graduate near the top of his class and go to the best university he could find, even if he had to work day and night to afford it. He'd get two jobs if he had to. And hell, running around like that he could potentially lose weight without even trying. If he was working he could not eat, he would run from job to job, class to class, even if he had to drag his fat inner child kicking and screaming along the way.

Every part of Cartman's mind was kicking and screaming at the moment however due the fact he had reached the Broflovski residence. His inner child kicked the walls and screamed in his ear but with an outward calm he rang the doorbell and waited patiently for the Jew to answer.

One of them did. But it was Ike. He paled and looked ready to run off at the sight of Eric Cartman, undoubtedly remembering the last time they had met. But Eric gave him a pleasant smile that burned his cheeks and spoke as kindly as he could.

"Can you get Kahl for me?"

Ike squeaked his answer and dashed off. Cartman could hear the brothers fighting for a moment before Kyle finally appeared, looking wonderfully pink and frazzled.

Cartman stared. And stared. And stared again.

It rose up in Cartman's chest before he could stop it. His laugh was so loud that it echoed all around the houses and back again.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

"Shut up Cartman."

Unable to catch his breath, Cartman only continued, the sight of Kyle in pink was unbearable, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I said shut the fuck up Cartman!" Kyle scowled at him, his frizz barely masking his contempt.

Cartman fell on his knees and slapped the ground with one hand and rubbed his sore sides with the other.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Kyle grumbled and crossed his arms over his pink chest, tapping his foot off the floor while he waited for Cartman to stop. But it was difficult for the fatass because every time he nearly stopped he would look at Kyle again and his amusement only doubled. He was nearly lying on his back before Kyle finally got sick of waiting and kicked him in the nuts.

"Oof!" Cartman lost his breath for real and curved into a ball before Kyle could swing his foot around again, protecting certain vital pieces of his anatomy.

"I swear to God if you laugh again I'll kick you so hard that even your grandchildren wouldn't be able to have children!" Kyle seethed; and when Kyle seethed he didn't entirely make any sense.

Cartman decided to point this out.

"But how could I have grandchildren if I was unable to have children at all?" He stared up at the sky and for a moment Wendy's face surfaced in his mind's eye, making him smile.

Kyle saw the smile and thought for a moment that the fat ass was about to laugh again. He was getting ready to swing when Eric rolled away and got back to his feet.

"Don't do that again you stupid asswipe," Eric pulled blades of grass from his hair and straightened his rumpled clothes.

Kyle merely glared and went back into the house, Cartman following at a reasonable distance so he would not be attacked by a Jewish sneak attack at his nut sack. Sheila and Gerald were washing up in the kitchen and Ike had disappeared entirely. The Lord and Savoir had gone home to watch Lost (even though he could already tell you how it was going to end) and Kyle took him up to his bedroom.

Cartman pondered why Kyle was allowing him into his house, nevermind his bedroom without much of a fight but he decided to let it go. Maybe the daywalker had realised the errors of his ways and was ready to give Eric Cartman the respect he deserved. Nevertheless, Cartman wasn't visiting for pleasure so when Kyle slumped down on his bed he decided to lay out all his cards at once.

"I wanted to start a club and you're going to help," Cartman ordered.

Kyle blinked and stared at him, "What sort of club? I thought you were here to settle some argument."

"Who told you that?" he asked.

"Kenny," Kyle shrugged and averted his eyes, staring at the floor instead.

"No," Cartman waved the idea away, "I want to set up a debate club and you're going to help."

"Now why would I do that?"

"Because you, like me, want to get out of this shitty hellhole of a town and when it comes to college every little helps, right? The school doesn't have one."

"You had this idea all by yourself?" Kyle scoffed.

"Wendy helped," Cartman's tone was intimidating, warning Kyle not to look into that anymore.

"So basically," Kyle looked almost delighted, "you want to make something out of your big fat ass and you need my help."

"Yes…"

"Me?"

"Yes."

"My help?"

"For fuck's sake, yes!" Cartman balled his fists.

Kyle stroked his chin and his smile grew, he leaned back against the wall and relaxed, "Interesting…"

"There are lots of benefits for you as well though," Cartman began to think over everything Wendy had suggested but he was distracted by a buzzing in his back pocket. The many layers of fat were vibrating uncomfortably. He looked at the screen and was surprised to see "Home calling," upon the screen.

"Hang on just a sec Kahl," Cartman pressed the answer button just as Kyle went as white as a sheet, making the pink and orange clash look even more ridiculous.

""I'm naked. I'm horny," a man's voice said, "And I want you. Right here. Right now. I don't care what you're doing. Just get your peach of an ass back to your house before I spank it."

"Eh?" Cartman went still with shock. Again for a moment he wished it had been Wendy's voice saying that. But it wasn't. He knew exactly whose voice it was.

"I said I'm naked and I want to finish what we were doing the other day," the voice spoke again.

"Cartman…" Kyle stood up and reached for the phone, "just hang up."

But Cartman could not.

"What the fuck are you on Kenny?" he bellowed into his cell phone.

"Shit!" Kenny swore.

"What are you doing in my house? And why are you naked?"

"Shit!" Kenny swore again.

"Give me the phone Cartman," Kyle tried to reach for him again but Cartman kept him at arms length.

"Why are you naked in my house Kenny?" like the bull before a matador, Cartman was beginning to see red.

"Oh… I…" Kenny tried to explain, "This must be the wrong number."

"No fucking shit it's the wrong number! WHY ARE YOU NAKED IN MY HOUSE? WHO ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE CALLING?"

"Listen Eric, I can explain," but Cartman did not give him that chance. He had already disconnected the call and rounded on Kyle.

"Did you know about this?"

"We had a cell phone number," Kyle began, "I had no idea it was yours!"

Cartman took two steps forward and with his two huge fists he grabbed the front of Kyle's shirt and lifted him off his feet, a difficult task considering the Jewish man's height.

"Who was he calling?" Cartman seethed, "whose number did you think it was?"

"I don't have your cell phone number, I didn't know!"

"Who was he calling? Who did he want?"

Kyle opened his mouth to explain and then closed it again. That's all he had to do. With an inhuman roar of fury, the obese young man flung Kyle across the room. He landed heavily against a bookcase but he was back up in seconds. Cartman had already left, stomping down the stairs and out of the door before anyone could stop him.

Kyle ran to catch up with him, calling his name desperately to get him to stop. Kenny needed time to escape, to get out of the Cartman home. But Cartman was living up to his footballing name, careening down the street like a tank, knocking the oblivious from his path, radiating raw anger.

"Cartman! You have to stop!" Kyle tried to reason with him but it was impossible. "Don't hurt him! It was some stupid bet!"

But this only made Cartman angrier, if that was possible. He reached his home in seconds of leaving the Broflovskis, a world record but he didn't realise it. He didn't pull out his key for the front door; he simply kicked it down. As he stomped into his home he could hear scurrying movement upstairs, like there was a rat in the house.

Gripping the banister with his inhuman strength, Cartman ascended the staircase at a slower pace, his fury bubbling just beneath the surface erratically. He was going to blow his top and there was nothing else to be done. He could not be stopped.

When he got to the top he saw the ladder and the open window and snarled. He had barely reached the window when he heard a yelp and the ladder disappeared entirely. But Cartman did not worry about Kenny's welfare.

The ladder had fallen away under Kenny's feat and the young man was grasping desperately at the window sill, his pants around still halfway down his legs. This was not the first time that Kenny had hung from his fingertips out of a window with his pants around his ankles but that amusing memory could not be mentioned at that moment.

Cartman looked out at Kenny and his face seemed to soften. He reached out a hand to the disbelieving Kenny who took it without thinking. So Cartman held him there in the air, his finger's pressing into the slender boy's wrist.

"Screw my mother will you?" Cartman whispered, beyond anger now.

"Eric… please."

"I trusted you," Cartman shook his head, "I trusted you."

"…please."

"I TRUSTED YOU!" Cartman let go of Kenny's wrist.

* * *

If dying hurt, then coming back to life hurt even more.

It was always the same. He woke up on his damp and moldy mattress in his own home, his muscles, and his joints slowly flickering back into life. His skin erupted with pain as a million needle pricks grazed his nerve endings back into life and his soul fought against being restrained again.

Then there was the fight for oxygen and he would suck in the air like a drowning man. Then eventually he would see again and realise with a sickening lurch that he was back. That he was poor, neglected, malnourished Kenny McCormick again and he would realise that he would never be anything else but that.

But that's not all he saw this time.

Upon his pillow lay a little paper parcel. Even before his memories had returned to him, Kenny had already torn open the wrapping and gasped with disbelief when a small chain fell into his lap.

It was the other half of a Best Friends Forever chain. Eric Cartman's half.

And as Kenny's memories filtered back into his conscience, he held that little chain against his heart and cried.

* * *

**READ AND REVIEW? PLEASE?**


	12. Chapter 12

One of my reviewers had said that I was one of the few writers that wrote Cartman as straight and that makes me feel damn proud. Cartman x Kyle might feel passionate, Cartman x Kenny has its softer side but Cartman x Wendy is where it's at people. It makes life taste much better. Trust me.

Thanks to everyone who was so supportive. I need to just pull myself together. And your kind words helped. So, to all of you I dedicate a small story moment. I hope you lot love Stan's kiss and I hope you can picture it as clearly as I can. On with the chapter…

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"So… ah," Stan was shifting his stance and looking at his shoes rather than Kyle, "did anyone kiss your finger better?"

"Huh?" Kyle turned to face his best friend. They were standing at the bus stop, bundled up against the cold as ever.

"You hurt your finger yesterday."

Kyle smirked and averted his gaze as well, "No. Nobody kissed it better."

There was a pause. Both boys refused to look at each other, wearing identical grins but for entirely different reasons. Kyle was amused at the joke but Stan was trying to figure out whether or not he had the balls to act.

Kyle waited and admired the way the sunlight glinted off the snow. Stan blew out a breath and without any ceremony at all he seized Kyle's hand, pulled the glove off roughly and grazed the fingers with his lips.

After bursting into laughter, Kyle pretended to swoon because a handsome man had kissed his hands. This made Stan laugh too and a few moments later they were punching each other's arms. It was the sort of joke that only super best friends could pull off and not make it seem completely gay.

"You know," Kyle tried to keep the grin from his face, "I hurt my head as well when Cartman threw me against the wall."

Stan stared long and hard into Kyle's face and took two steps forward, puckering up.

"Get off me, fag!" Kyle flailed his arms and tried to wave Stan away, the shorter boy's lips were still puckered and still coming closer. So Kyle did the only thing he could do and he hit Stan on the side of the head to make him back off.

"Ow…" Stan whined and held his head.

"It's your own fault," Kyle chuckled.

"You hurt me!"

"No one's fault but yours, queer."

Stan thought for a moment, "You have to kiss it better now."

"No I won't," Kyle folded his arms across his chest and pretended to look cross. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips

"Kiss it better Kyle!" Stan demanded.

"No!"

"I'll make you!"

"I'd like to see you try, shortie," Kyle teased him.

Stan grabbed Kyle's head and pulled it closer to his own. Kyle struggled in Stan's grip but they remained stuck, Kyle's face in Stan's hands, Stan trying to force a kiss.

"You know you want it Kyle!"

"Gerroff me!" Kyle tried to pull his head free, slightly alarmed at seeing Stan's lips so close.

It was the arrival of Eric Cartman that made them both stop play fighting. He didn't say a word. He didn't even look at them. He didn't look any different from how he normally did but there was just that something that made Stan feel slightly ill and Kyle uneasy. The snow was practically melting around the Cartman youth, something beyond anger radiating off of him. It made the other two boys keep their distance even though that only made Eric Cartman angrier. The whole situation had not been his fault. Why would they not stand with him?

"So you two are on Kenny's side?" he accused them, his eyes glinting darkly.

"You dropped him out of the window!" Stan frowned back.

"And I'd do it again!" Cartman glared.

"You killed Kenny!" the blood flushed into Stan's cheeks, "you bastard!"

"He had it coming!" Cartman squared up to the other young man, "He only had himself to blame! You weren't there! You didn't see it! The candles by the bed, the rose petals! You would have done the same!"

"I…" Stan began furiously but Cartman cut him off.

"He even brought chocolate cake! And what would he have done with that?" Cartman's face contorted with pain and disgust. He had been so beside himself with anger the night before that he had ended up eating the chocolate cake and he threw it all up afterwards.

"Murdering scum!" Stan spat and refused to look at the fat ass, "doesn't matter what he was going to do, you still killed him! You should be in jail, right Kyle?"

Kyle had remained entirely silent until then and in all honesty he would have preferred to stay silent.

"Right Kyle?" Stan prompted again.

"I probably would have killed Kenny too," Kyle admitted and put his hands in his pockets, giving Cartman an apologetic glance. "I think… under the circumstances… what Kenny wanted to do was worse than what Cartman did."

"You're only saying that because Kenny can come back to life," Stan was confused; why would Kyle take Cartman's side?

"No," Kyle sighed, "Mothers are supposed to be off limits, for making jokes or whatever. I know Cartman always makes fun of mine but he knows now how it feels I guess."

Cartman's expression softened slightly. He was still furious, especially at Kyle for having a hand in what happened last night but he was still relieved that someone was on his side. Someone was willing to stick up for him.

"There's a reason why the term 'mother fucker' is used so derogatively," Cartman impressed himself with that big word.

Stan scoffed and for once found himself in the minority, still puzzled by Kyle's behaviour. He gazed at the red head for a few moments, his hands in his pockets, barely unable to comprehend a universe in which Kyle and Cartman actually agreed on something. The last time they had agreed on something they nearly ruined the festive season for the whole world.

Stan and Kyle sat together as usual on the journey to school. But unusually they did not talk much. Kyle seemed to be too much aware that Cartman was sitting alone. Kenny had not shown up for the bus but no one else seemed keen to sit anywhere near Eric. A few classmates shot glances towards the back of the bus where he was and muttered to a friend beside them. Kyle had little doubt that the story of how Cartman had killed Kenny would probably be blown completely out of proportion. By the end of the day he would probably hear that Cartman had garrotted Kenny, cut out his intestines, flung them on a fire and moments before Kenny was beheaded he was able to smell his own organs burning.

But he had been there. He had seen Cartman's rage, almost beaten back by it. But he had also seen the aftermath. He had seen the expression on Cartman's face when he saw his mother's room. Seen the glint of tears as the whole situation filtered into the fat ass's thick head. Cartman had been pale with both anger and desperation that night. So Kyle could not condemn him so utterly.

And what seemed to sting even more was the fact that Cartman had seemed almost happy right up until that phone call. Like he was finally figuring something out, finding his footing. Maybe, potentially, changing so he would not be so much of an asshole. And that only made Cartman's lonely place at the back of the bus seem all the more disheartening.

When Wendy came onto the bus she did not sit near him either. She sat with Bebe and chatted away quite happily while the fat ass scowled out of the window.

Kyle tapped Stan's knee and was a little surprised when Stan seemed to jump in his chair.

"Come on," he said, "let's sit with him."

"Hell no," Stan tried to regain his composure.

"Listen," he reasoned with him, "I hate him; you hate him. He lives to make my life miserable. But he kinda needs someone right now. He's just found out that nearly every one of his friends has been involved in a disgusting bet."

"So?"

"Well, that sucks dude," Kyle got up, "and I know how it feels when people target your mother just because they don't like you. So I'm sitting with Cartman."

Kyle was not sure who seemed more upset; Cartman alone or Stan as Kyle strode to the back of the bus, ignoring all the whispers. He sat next to him and gave him a small encouraging look: but Cartman only scoffed.

"I don't need your pity!" he spat at Kyle.

"It's not pity," Kyle sighed, "it's agreement."

Cartman was quiet. When he finally spoke his voice seemed full of emotion; "Really?"

"Yeah."

Cartman sniffed and Kyle was horrified to see Cartman's jaw quiver as if he was trying to contain himself.

"What kind of a fucked up world is this when you can't even trust the one asshole that's supposed to know how you feel?"

Cartman punched the chair in front of him with anger and then dropped his face into his hands. Kyle reached over and put a comforting hand on his back. He knew Eric was not crying, he never did, but it seemed the right thing to do.

And so Kyle did not walk with Stan into the school either. Kyle was surprised by the amount of people that either started jeering when Cartman appeared or who backed away completely, eyeing the fat ass like he was carrying an infectious disease. He heard a few snippets of that song "Stacey's Mom" and Kyle could feel his own blood pressure starting to rise when Cartman's posture stiffened and his fists began to clench and unclench.

"It got around fast," he pointed out, mentally kicking himself for having nothing else to say.

"No shit," Cartman spat and glared at a freshman who sniggered when they passed by.

"Just ignore them, whatever they say is bullcrap."

"OI!" a familiar voice echoed down the hall. Craig was leaning against his locker with a gleeful but malicious expression, Token by his side.

"Eric," Kyle only used Cartman's first name in the most difficult of situations, "just ignore him."

"I hear Kenny screwed your mom last night! Or did she screw him? Is that why Kenny isn't here today? Is his ass too sore?"

Large amounts of oxygen and adrenaline rushed through Cartman's system, his torso visibly shaking.

"No, wait," Craig continued, "I know why his ass hurts. You dropped him out of the window right? What's the matter? Get sick of sharing your mom with everyone else in South Park?"

"Leave her out of this," Cartman seethed through his teeth.

"What are you going to do, big guy? Drop me out of the window too? I bet you wouldn't have the balls. I bet you're just like your transgender, crusty, skanky, coked up, dope fiend crab infested mother."

Kyle desperately tried to grab the back of Cartman's jacket before Eric charged. He gripped the material with the tips of his fingers and skidded along the ground as Cartman careened down the corridor towards Craig. Cartman was fuelled with sheer rage, his lungs filling quickly and rapidly with more oxygen. All he could see was Craig and barely sensed Kyle slowing his progress. He only became aware of Kyle when the taller boy practically jumped on his back and whirled him away from Craig but he was still able to hear the laughter of students ringing up and down the hallway.

Craig seemed to have disappeared but Kyle was still on Cartman's back, using every ounce of strength to restrain him. Barely aware of what he was doing, Cartman immediately walked backwards, slamming poor Kyle against the lockers and knocking the air out of him.

Kyle slid down onto the floor holding his chest while the chant of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" began in earnest. But the one Cartman had wanted to fight was gone so he kicked Kyle in the kneecap for stopping him.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" he bellowed, "YOU FUCKING, STUPID LITTLE JEW!"

"Eric Cartman! If you keep this anti-Semitic behaviour up then I'm going to have to give you an office referral, mm-kay," Mr Mackey appeared on Cartman's right, shaking his head in disappointment.

He tried to cool his temper but it was so damn difficult, especially with Mr Mackey, his mother's favourite fuck buddy, giving him a lecture.

"I'd like to see you in my office right now, Eric," Mackey, "we're going to have to have a serious talk about anger management. If you can't learn to control yourself then you're not going to go anywhere in life, mm-kay?"

Strangely, that was what made Cartman calm down. A little voice in his head, sounding remarkably like Kyle, suggested that it was incidences like these that would see him stuck forever in this quiet, little, pissant, redneck, Podunk, jerkwater, greenhorn, one-horse, mud-hole, peckerwood, right-wing, whistle-stop, hobmail, truck-driving, old-fashioned, hayseed, inbred, unkempt, out-of-date, out-of-touch, white-trash mountain town.

And probably whatever sick god was out there would sentence him to a life spent here for killing Kenny McCormick. He was never going to get to college. He was never going to get anything.

He kicked Kyle again out of bitterness.

* * *

He spent another day keeping to himself.

He wished he had earphones or something with him so he could at least pretend to block out some of what he overheard but he did not have any. He kept his head down, refused to talk to anyone. Even on the bus journey home he sat by himself. Kyle had ended up beside Stan again (who incidentally was playfully rubbing Kyle's leg better).

Cartman thought he heard someone call his name as he pushed his way of the bus, only wanting to go home and gorge himself on something fat and high in calories. But a shadow fell on Cartman's path and he would have refused to acknowledge it if it was not for the sudden stinging pain that collided with his cheek.

SLAP!

He heard Craig burst into hysterical laughter and Cartman lifted his head to glare at the asshole that had struck him. But his eyes met the beautifully enraged eyes of Wendy Testaburger, standing in front of him with her lips pursed and her hands on her slim hips.

"I'm disappointed in you Eric Cartman!" her sweet voice scolded him.

"Whatever, ho," he muttered, not giving a damn about how disappointed she was supposed to be. He pushed past her and was a little surprised when she jumped in front of him again.

"You're letting them walk all over you!" she was fuming, leaving the fat ass feeling particularly bemused and bewildered.

"Craig can't come back to life, bitch!" he spat at her, "or are you another one of those self righteous bastards that thinks I belong in jail for killing the immortal Kenny McCormick?"

"To fuck with Kenny McCormick!" Wendy declared; her cheeks rather rosy with rage, "this isn't about him!"

"Oh it's my mom then, huh?" he snarled, "good ol' whoring, drugged up mom."

"No, this is about your pride! You are letting that jerk Craig get away with whatever he wants just because you're supposed to be the one in the wrong, right?"

"I'm not sure if you've noticed Wendy, but I'm sorta persona non grata right now, seriously."

"When did Eric Cartman ever care about what other people thought? When did Eric Cartman ever care about being the nice guy?"

Cartman could hear Craig's voice singing that awful Stacey's Mom song again and something in his chest flared in fury.

"My best friend betrayed me," he pointed out, "just shows how much people care about you when even your best friend stabs you in the back."

"Well I care about you and I think Kenny deserved to be barbecued slowly and then served to the homeless."

"You care about me? You didn't sit with me; you haven't talked to me all day. But oh yeah, I really believe that you care about this asshole. Excuse me while I roll my eyes."

Wendy raised her hand again and slapped his cheek. It stung even more this time and then began to throb painfully. He touched the bruised skin and glared at her, "What the fuck do you do think you're doing?"

"Knocking some sense into you, hell knows you need it."

"I don't need your help."

"Yes, you do," Wendy's expression softened, "you've got so much potential but you always ruin things for yourself. Maybe Kenny didn't deserve to be killed but how could you have reacted differently? You've got so much pent up rage but you use it wrongly. You shouldn't have killed Kenny; you should have merely tortured him."

_Merely_ tortured? Cartman frowned.

"Trust me," Wendy's eyes glinted, "revenge is a best dish served cold. And the day that you learn that is the day you become unstoppable."

"That sounds a little extremist coming from you," he pointed out.

"Who is top of the year," she smiled coldly, "me or Kyle? Don't you think there's a reason for that?"

"Huh?"

"Believe it or not, Kyle is not ambitious enough. You aren't ambitious enough. I am and that focus, that goal means I always outperform everyone else. Ambition is revenge. It's a way of laughing at the people that held you back. The Scott Tenorman incident of yours was undoubtedly impressive, but extremely crude. There was no finesse. Just savagery."

"Oh, so sending a teacher into the sun outranks making someone eat their parents?" he narrowed his eyes.

"It was not just sending her into the sun," she purred. Wendy looked incredibly vicious but intensely beautiful in Cartman's eyes, an avenging angel. "It was photo manipulation, it was government manipulation. I mean, I did get Iraqi troops involved did I not?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"You may have made Scott Tenorman an orphan and while I'm impressed how you've doomed him to life of guilt and internal suffering, there's nothing quite like knowing that Miss Ellen spent the last few hours of her life in fear, before being slowly frazzled to death. Scientifically speaking she would have died long before the rocket reached the sun."

Cartman blinked.

"You," he gaped, "You're evil."

"No I'm not," she smiled sweetly; "I just know revenge."

She reached up and smoothed the hair back from Cartman's face. He felt a little uncomfortable being this close to her but his heart was beating erratically, almost excited by this avenging angel before him. He wondered if it was wrong for him to be turned on by that whole new side to Wendy.

She spoke to him in low, husky tones, "I never told you before but I hate Craig myself. When I dated Token I had to put up with him and he was more of a jerk than Kyle was. I never got the chance to cause him a little trouble."

"What have you got in mind?" he couldn't help but find her voice strangely hypnotic.

"Well since you're still an amateur then we'll start off small," Wendy studied Craig and his little group of friends, "nothing too special, we'll just piss him off."

"We're outnumbered."

"Numbers mean nothing," Wendy stroked his arm, "and since it's you then the odds are drastically altered. You could squash at least three of them without even trying too hard."

"I'm not fat!" Cartman protested, "And stop patronising me. I can handle all of those fuckers myself."

"Well do it then."

"Stop telling me what to do, Wendy."

"No, no, no. I do believe that you wanted my help so you could make something of yourself. Now you'll do as I tell you. I want a victory, I want his hat. So get it for me."

Cartman was almost convinced to act but then Wendy suddenly did something that made everything seem better. She stood on her tiptoes and placed her lips on his throbbing cheek ever so gently.

It was like drinking ten cans of Red Bull in one sitting. He strode towards Craig and his friends, leaving the chuckling Wendy in his dust, feeling suddenly energised beyond reason. Craig stopped singing Stacey's Mom when he saw the fat ass approach and his expression became on of disgust.

"Can you guys feel the ground shaking?" he sneered, "I thought earthquakes were supposed to be rare in Colorado."

"If you want to say something to me then you can say it to my face, buttfucker," Cartman growled, barely able to stop himself clenching his fists.

Token laughed softly and took a couple of steps backwards. Clyde looked back and forth between Craig and Eric and whistled, dragging the shivering Tweek backwards as well.

"Oh God!" Tweek shook enough to cause an earthquake himself, "This is it, isn't it? Cartman's going to sit on me!"

"Cartman's not going to do anything to you," Craig waved his hand at Tweek, "he wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't dare to do what?" Cartman straightened himself to his full height, quite a few inches taller than Craig. Tweek squeaked again at the sight of Cartman towering over Craig.

"You can't lay a finger on me, fatass," Craig only smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm not planning on using my fingers." Cartman towered closer, "How badly do your balls hurt?"

Craig frowned.

"After your last little run in with Barbrady?" Cartman chuckled.

"They don't hurt anymore!" Craig lowered his hands to his sides and balled up his fists.

Cartman swung his leg upwards, the top of his boots colliding with Craig's unprotected nutsack. Craig grunted and fell against Token, his eyeballs meeting in the middle as the force of the blow ricocheted throughout his body.

"What about now?" he smirked down at him, "do they hurt now?"

Token pushed Craig back up onto his feet but the youth still wobbled, unable to speak for the intense pain in his nether regions.

"I'll make you a deal," Cartman offered, "if you can hit me then you can have as many naked pictures of my mom as you want. But only if you can hit me."

Cartman stood back and waited. The years of fighting with Kyle might prove to be useful after all. He knew Craig was weakened by his kick and while others might frown on having such an advantage, Craig wouldn't stop from hitting a man when he was down either. He had proved that this morning, hadn't he?

The smaller boy aimed a right hook at Cartman's jaw but he had already guessed that Cartman would dodge so moments later he swung with his left and barely grazed Cartman's already bruised cheek.

Cartman felt the hit but barely moved, "Fuck me, you hit like a girl. We'll count that as a half. Have another shot."

Craig grunted and swung his right around again. This time Cartman caught his fist in his palm. He started to squeeze. He squeezed harder, feeling the whole of Craig's arm shaking in pain.

"Looks like you missed again," he chuckled and applied yet more pressure, almost enough to break Craig's whole fist. He looked up at the rest of the guys and dared them to intervene, "You follow this guy around when he can't hit a big fat target?"

Token blinked, Tweek squeaked and Clyde merely sniffed.

Cartman turned his attention back to Craig, "You've been warned. Don't ever talk about my mother ever again. Do you hear me, cocksucker? Next time I will break your hand."

He let the fist go and Craig stood back, rubbing his injured hand and wincing. He was so focused on his injury that he barely noticed Cartman stretching his hand forward again.

"Yoink!" Cartman yanked the hat straight off of Craig's head. He spun around and dashed off, grabbing Wendy's hand and pulling her along too.

"Give me my hat back you big fat asshole!" he heard Craig screech as he and his friends gave chase.

Cartman could feel his lungs burning already. He didn't like running. He always felt like his body was jiggling when he ran but he was so caught up in laughing that stamina did not seem to matter. Wendy was laughing too as they raced down the South Park high street, knocking little old ladies out of their path and dodging the traffic. He could hear Craig hollering and the sound of the others giving chase. He didn't have to look behind him to know that everyone apart from Tweek was trying to get Craig's hat back.

He pulled Wendy around a corner and then around another one, trying to lose his pursuers. Since he had a head start the others were a little bit behind, but he still didn't fancy the idea of Token, Clyde and Craig all at once. He pulled Wendy down another side street when he felt her let go of his hand. He skid to a stop and turned to face her.

"We gotta run!" he exclaimed, "Come on!"

"My heel is stuck," she pointed out and indeed it was. Her high heel was caught between two paving stones.

"Leave them!" he reached for her hand again.

"I'm not leaving my shoes!" she looked indignant.

"If you do then we'll run faster!"

"I'm not leaving it behind!" she frowned.

Cartman thought for only a second and then heard the gang getting closer. He acted quickly. Pulling Wendy's foot, shoe and all out of the gap and then without even considering the consequences, flung the young woman over his shoulders.

"Cartman!" she screamed inelegantly but Cartman had already set off again, not caring if Wendy was being carried in a rather undignified way through the streets of South Park.

And he did not stop running until he was sure he had lost the gang.

Wheezing, feeling like his lungs were on fire he finally slid to a hall outside his old elementary school. As he struggled to catch his breath and allow oxygen to reach his lungs, he let go of Wendy so she could slide down his front and back onto her own two feet. If he hadn't been so out of breath he would have seen the mixture of horror and admiration in her eyes.

"Stan never ever lifted me up," she breathed, looking amazed.

"Glad…. (wheeze)… to be (wheeze)… of service."

"There is a little muscle under all that fat isn't there?"

"Don't… (wheeze)… fucking (cough)… call me fat!"

"I'm sorry," she rubbed his back as if that would help him breathe. It certainly helped him to calm down.

"I got your hat," he held it out for her and then bent double trying to catch his breath, his hands on his knees.

"You did well for an amateur," she smiled, "it's not how I would have done it but you still won the prize."

I got my prize before I stole the hat, Cartman thought of her lips on his cheek.

Wendy examined Craig's hat, spinning it around in the air and she held it before them both with disgust.

"It smells like hair gel," she wrinkled her nose, "so what do you want to do with it now?"

"I thought you wanted it?" he frowned.

"I just wanted to see if you could get it. You did. So are you going to keep your trophy?"

"I just want to breathe!" he gasped.

Wendy's eyes sparkled with mischief, "Oh, we could throw it in the river, set it on fire or- I know! We could hold it for ransom and send a little portion of it back everyday until he pays up!"

Cartman's eyes fell on the old school flagpole instead.

"You're supposed to display your trophies, right?"

"Yeah," Wendy said.

Eric took the hat from her again and strode over to the flagpole. With a triumphant smile he attached it to the line and then raised it for the entire world to see. Craig's hat billowed in the breeze, victorious and triumphant, like the stars and stripes whenever they beat up another country. It made his chest swell with arrogant satisfaction.

"This will be a day to be remembered," he proclaimed, gazing up at the hat with pride, "when that asshole Craig finally learned; you don't fuck with the Cartmans!"

"Or with Wendy Testaburger," she smiled and slid a hand into Eric's.

"Yeah," he agreed, "We kick ass."

Wendy laughed, "Yeah, I guess we do."

"Did you see the look on his face when I swiped it right off his head?" There seemed like there was nothing more to be proud of than wiping the smirk from Craig's insufferable face.

"It was pretty amazing."

It might have been the adrenaline in his system. It may have been stress. It could have even been another moment of rage, but Cartman suddenly did something that shocked even him. He only saw Wendy, and without even regaining the full use of his lungs he did perhaps the most impulsive thing in his life.

He kissed her.

* * *

**READ AND REVIEW PLEASE?**


	13. Chapter 13

I can only hope that the beginning of this chapter does not scare away some of my readers. This is still a gen fic and will always be. If you want to blame someone for how one character turns out then blame a certain BroflovskiFan. LOL I love her and she was determined that a certain character was playing for the other team and when I did re-read, it was a case of "…. whoops." If you analysed some of the chapters, she is actually right.

But this is still gen and always will be. Don't worry.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

It's a truth universally acknowledged, that the safest place in the world, no matter how old you are, is under the covers in your own bed.

And Kenny wasn't leaving his bed for anyone.

Deep down he knew he was being rather immature but he knew he could not help it. He was actually terrified. Cartman was still out there somewhere, and was still bigger than him, smarter than him, crueller than him. And Kenny did not fancy being used as Cartman's punch-bag.

It was also the whole high school scene that was so terrifying to the young man; he had guessed that if no one had known about the bet before then they certainly would know now. It would be horrible, putting up with the judgemental stares, the loud jeering, and accusations of being a hermaphrodite's toy boy. So he was staying where he was, dammit, and he was never leaving his bed again, ever.

He was still sulking two days after Cartman dropped him out of the window when Stan finally came around to drag him kicking and squealing from under his covers.

"But I don't want to!" Kenny clung to his bedpost, still hidden under his covers while Stan pulled roughly on his leg.

"You need to come out of there sometime," Stan pointed out, "and it might as well be now."

When Stan let go of his leg with a frown, Kenny immediately yanked it back into the safety of the darkness. He curled up into a ball on his side and glared through the covers at Stan, who was now standing with his hands on his hips, glaring back at him.

"You're not the one with a great big fat ass target on your head, are you?" Kenny burrowed deeper into his bed and sulked. All thoughts of Liane Cartman's shapely thighs and delectable breasts had run off with the rest of Kenny's manhood.

"He's not going to hurt you again," Stan sighed, "I won't let him."

"Oh, my hero," Kenny drawled, unimpressed.

"You're being stupid," Stan tried to pull the sheets away but Kenny squeaked and held them tight.

"I'll leave my bed when I want to!"

"And when's that going to be Kenny? When you're forty?"

"I said when I want to, for fuck sake!"

Stan stood there thinking for a few moments and Kenny anxiously waited, wondering what sort of diabolical scheme the dark haired teen was going to use on him next. He could always smoke him out, but it wouldn't work. Kenny would die of smoke inhalation but he'd be ok, he had died from that before.

Instead, Kenny felt the bed shifting as Stan put one knee on the mattress and Stan's head appeared under the duvet, looking concerned.

"It's really not that bad," Stan told him, looking ever so caring and kind, "it's only Cartman."

"Yeah, the anti-Semitic, Hitler worshipping, homicidal maniac, yeah, it's only Cartman."

Stan's face went rigid for a moment before he barked like an army officer, "Get out of this bed before I make you, McCormick!"

"I'd like to see you try, donut puncher," Kenny spat and tried to roll away when Stan's hands grabbed a hold of his sweater and yanked.

Stan pulled and pulled and Kenny kicked and writhed, trying to pull out of Stan's grip. It was during this little scuffle that Stan's hand slipped and he ended up almost sprawled over Kenny. Kenny was quite ready to keep fighting when Stan pulled away like he had been burnt and disappeared from under the covers.

Kenny stopped fighting and waited. Stan said nothing.

"What was that about, dude?" Kenny asked, puzzled.

"What was all what about?" Stan sounded far too innocent.

"You pulled away like I had an infectious disease or something."

Stan did not talk for far too long and when he did it was completely ridiculous, "What? What the hell are you on about, dude? Did you land on your head or something? Of course I'm not worried about catching anything. What on earth would give you that idea?"

"Then why did you just jump a foot in the air when you landed on me?" Kenny asked, thinking, wondering.

"You're delusional," Stan tried to laugh but it was far too forced to be natural. No doubt he was doing the head toss laugh to make it seem natural.

Kenny pulled the covers away from around his head and studied Stan's expression.

Something was snapping, clicking into place in Kenny's head. He could not be sure if he was right. He would have to ask.

"Stan… does close contact with guys make you feel… different?"

Stan looked at the floor, "don't be stupid, dude."

Kenny just watched him, "it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I honestly don't know what you mean," Stan said, still not making eye contact.

"How long have you… felt this way?"

"I don't feel any which way," Stan muttered and crossed his arms over his chest in a clear defensive move.

Kenny sat up and now it was his turn to watch with concern, "there's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

"Jesus Christ, Kenny!" Stan exclaimed, "I don't even know if I'm gay yet and you sound like you want to throw me a parade!"

"You mean you're not sure?" Kenny was puzzled.

"I don't know, alright?!" Stan almost shouted. He then attempted to calm himself and spoke slower, "… sometimes I think that I am. Other times… I still find women attractive. But I sorta, maybe, like guys too."

"Could be just a phase," Kenny reasoned, "a lot of people go through that."

"I broke up with Wendy twice because of it," Stan sighed miserably, "if it's a phase it's one hell of a bitch. I got back together with her because I thought I was straight. But sometimes I'm just not sure."

"Does Kyle know?" this was clearly the wrong question to ask as an interesting shade of red flushed into Stan's cheeks.

"Kyle doesn't have to know," Stan whispered, "not until I'm sure."

He turned to face Kenny and asked him desperately, "Please don't tell him."

"Sure dude," Kenny could not help but feel concern. It would be a good idea to change the topic so Kenny fell back under the covers stubbornly. He waited for Stan to pull him back out again, perhaps engage in some playful banter but Stan didn't move.

Kenny peeked out from under the sheets and was shocked to see Stan sitting slumped over, his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, looking positively miserable.

Kenny got out of bed immediately and settled down next to Stan, putting an uncomfortable hand on his shoulder.

"This sort of thing isn't really a big deal anymore," he tried to be comforting and in the usual Kenny style, did not do particularly well, "it's not like you're going to get lynched or anything."

"You don't get it," Stan sighed, "I know you claim to be bi-sexual and all, but it's harder for other people. You're brought up as one sort of person and then out of nowhere something changes, and you can't remember how it happened or even how to go back to how you were. You just are, even without wanting to be. It's not like some wonderful light-switch. I can't turn this off. And you're lucky, you have a light dimmer."

"If you're worrying about what other people think, like your mom and dad," Kenny began but Stan cut him off.

"It's not other people," Stan shook his head, "It's just him. I mean… he likes boobs! He's happy staring at Bebe's tits all day and what if…. What if he thinks I'm some sort of freak?"

"He wouldn't, it's you," Kenny rubbed his back, "and you're worrying too much. It could be just a phase. You don't expect me to play for both teams all my life, do you?"

"No…" Stan sighed, "You like boobs too much too."

"They're amazing," a small smile trickled into Kenny's features, "learn to appreciate them the way I do and you can go back to skirt chasing."

Stan smoothed the hair out of his face and let out a breath, looking a little embarrassed, "I came over to help you. What the hell happened? I'm such an idiot."

"We're just both going through a rough patch," Kenny shrugged, "and the worst thing is that we can't even talk to our best friends to make it better. Mine wants to kill me. And fuck, knowing that kinda hurts."

"Your own fault really," Stan stared at his shoes, "not enough to get dropped out of the window but what were you expecting?"

Kenny didn't answer.

"Doesn't matter now anyway," Stan continued, "Kyle's suddenly became all friendly with Cartman over it. He keeps talking about understanding why the fat ass behaves in the fucked up way he does."

Kenny smirked, "and I bet that pisses you off. You want him to focus on you, right?"

"Don't be sick. He's my best friend."

"Stanny-wanny's got a crush," Kenny sang, "Stanny loves Kylie. Oh yes he does."

"I'll smother you with your pillows."

"That sounds like such a dramatic death," Kenny smirked, "kinda kinky too."

Stan stood up, looking a little pissed off, "Fuck you, McCormick."

"Yes please," Kenny chuckled, barely resisting the urge to purr.

"It wasn't a request!"

* * *

Stan was as good as his word and stuck close to Kenny for _almost_ the whole day.

Even on the bus ride to school, Kyle's usual place of honour next to Stan was occupied by the McCormick kid. Kenny never had realised before how skinny he actually was compared to other guys. His baggy clothes usually covered it up and while Stan wasn't particularly tall, Kenny felt quite protected in Stan's shadow.

Because, even if Stan Marsh was gayer than a dance around a maypole, you still didn't mess with him. If Stan didn't scare you into retreat with his cool manner and a sarcastic quip, he still had a right hook, and a left. Even if you had managed to knock him down, Kyle at least would kick three shades of shit out of you for daring to hurt his best friend.

Kenny felt a pain in his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind pointed out that had anyone knocked Kyle down then you'd have been left with Cartman. And while Cartman fought with Kyle constantly, talked about killing him, anyone besides him that roughed up his Jew would pay.

But now it was Eric after Kenny. And if Stan was protecting Kenny… he really didn't want to get caught up in that mess.

"Listen dude," Kenny sighed as Stan rummaged through his locker, "you don't need to bother looking out for me. If Cartman thinks I've still got it coming to me… I don't want you all fighting too."

"Kinda late now," Stan just shrugged, flicking through Hamlet and then stuffing it in his bag.

"I mean… more fighting," Kenny turned to leave, "you've been good to me, Stan. You're a good guy. I don't want you getting caught up in this more than you already are."

Stan raised an eyebrow, "It doesn't matter Kenny. I don't care if you're immortal, I can't leave you by yourself."

He closed his locker and pulled his bag over his shoulder, "Besides, I've got some recruits. A bunch of other people that don't want to see you used as a punch bag."

Kenny scoffed, "Yeah, right."

Stan chuckled in response, "you might have more allies than you think, dude."

The blonde haired youth stared and almost jumped a foot in the air when he heard a very distinct click beside his head. It was the sound of a trigger being pulled back and Kenny had a mental image of his brain being splattered all over the lockers when Stan only laughed more.

He spun on the spot.

Pip was leaning against one of the lockers, a toy gun in his hand, his eyes glinting with amusement at Kenny's fright.

"Yeah. Hands up, McCormick," Pip pressed the gun against Kenny's temple, "Stand and deliver. Your money or your life?"

"Huh?" Kenny stared.

"Heard you need to lose about a ton of shit," Pip stood up straight and idly fixed one of the safety pins on his shirt, "Cartman isn't going to dare drop anybody out of a window today."

The very idea of Pip squaring up to Cartman should have sent Kenny into hysterical laughter but to be honest he was a little too surprised. And even more so when Butters appeared at Pip's elbow.

"Eh… hi there fellas," Butters gave Kenny his most encouraging smile.

"We blondes gotta stick together," Pip tucked the toy gun between the top of his jeans and his stomach, "we're a dying breed. Can't let a big, fat, old Nazi wipe us out. We've all been one of his little bitches at some time or other and I think it should stop now."

"Eric can't control his own strength," Butters reasoned, "He don't mean it really. He's just upset with everybody cause people treat his mom like a whore. I'd be pretty gosh darn upset too. Liane's such a nice lady."

Stan led them all towards class, "you're not supposed to call her Liane unless you're really close to the family."

"She told me I could," Butters protested.

Even as the other guys bickered, Kenny felt a strange warmth fill his chest. He'd done a pretty shitty thing, betrayed someone in a way that broke every rule in dude rulebook but he still had a couple of people that cared about him.

"When did she tell you that?" Stan asked, "Do you go around and bake cookies with her or something? You're always doing faggy stuff like that round at the Cartman's."

Kenny smirked and glanced at Stan, "Hey Pot, this is Kettle. You look simply fabulous in that silver finish, dah-ling!"

"Shut up Kenny," Stan punched Kenny in the elbow.

"Woah, woah, woah," Pip waved his hands around, "what's all this then? Is Mr Marsh hiding something from everybody?"

"He's got a crush on his Kylie-wylie," Kenny chuckled, "But I don't see what Kylie has that I don't have honestly."

"The best ass in school," Pip suggested, earning a glare from Kenny, "well that's what I've seen in the showers."

Butters had gone bright red, "you shouldn't be looking at another guy's shlong."

"Meaning you have, Butters. Do tell."

"Guys!" Stan was fuming, whipping his head around to make sure Kyle was no where to be seen, "can we please drop this conversation?"

"No, it's far too interesting," Kenny delighted in the perverseness of the conversation, "Butters is going to tell us about the lengths and breadths of South Park."

"No fellas, I won't!"

"Just give us an estimate," Kenny encouraged him, "I mean was Kyle born lucky? Or very lucky? Or very, very lucky?"

Pip shook his head and looked Stan right in the eye, "Tripod?"

Stan coloured and then stormed off in response, "Screw you guys. Grow up for fuck sake!"

"Come on dude!" Kenny chased after his mighty protector, "we're only teasing."

All of a sudden Stan stopped in his tracks. Kenny almost banged right into him, unable to see around the other teenager when several hands abruptly grabbed him and shoved him into the nearest open locker, closing the door over a little. Kenny was skinny enough to fit but his temper swelled at being stuffed so unceremoniously into the enclosed space. He was about to give the others a piece of his mind when…

"Did I just smell a shitty little ghetto rat?" Cartman's voice asked.

Kenny peered though the gap at his former best friend. He was taken aback at Cartman's appearance. While Eric didn't appear too different there was something slightly different in how he held himself. Eric used to slump his shoulders forward a little, only keeping his chin held arrogantly high. Now he seemed alert, straight and proud and Kenny feared that was because Cartman was rearing up for another Kenny-beating.

"I haven't seen him dude," Stan shrugged and smiled at Kyle who stood at Cartman's shoulder. Kyle smiled back and raised a hand in greeting.

"He better not show his face," Cartman growled.

"He's still gotta pass high school like you," Stan pointed out, "he can't stay off school forever."

"Yeah, well hopefully he'll drop out like the ghetto trash he is and leave room for people that have a future."

"You take up enough room already, Cartman" there was a hint of warning in Kyle's voice and some of the anger in Eric's face cleared. Kyle was obviously trying to keep him on a short leash.

"You're pretty mellow though compared to the other day," Stan was suspicious, "what have you been up to?"

A frightening yet loving expression now filtered in Cartman's features and he let out a very un-Cartman happy sigh, "I kissed her."

"YOU WHAT?" Stan bellowed.

"I kissed Wendy," here was the reason for Cartman's strange new pride then.

"Did…." Stan seemed to be searching for the words, "Did she… kiss you back?"

"Well not exactly."

"Not exactly?!"

"I kissed her," Cartman explained, "and even though she didn't kiss back… she didn't punch me."

Kenny knew Eric had fancied Wendy but there was something really quite scary in a completely love struck Eric Cartman.

"Were you expecting her to punch you?" Pip asked, bemused.

"Well… yeah."

Kyle had to cover his mouth with his hands to stifle a chuckle.

"And she didn't punch me," Cartman grinned, "You guys, she didn't punch me!"

"I hate you so much," it was Stan's turn to growl.

"Ha ha! Hate me all you like!" Cartman's smile only grew bigger, "I still kissed your girlfriend. Take that, queer bait!"

Kyle punched Eric in the side, "Stop calling Stan gay, for fuck sake."

"I'll call him whatever I want to, Jew," Cartman's voice was beginning to fade as if he was walking away. He was following Kyle, heading off to class. All thoughts of Kenny had obviously vanished from Stan's mind as he too went after the pair, leaving the three blondes left behind. Butters then shrugged and left for his own class.

Pip opened the locker and smiled down at Kenny, "Sorry about that."

"You better be!" Kenny grumbled and tried to slide out of the locker but having some trouble.

Pip watched him struggle before yanking him clear of the metal.

"Hey Ken," Pip began, "I was thinking. You don't have a date for this stupid prom thing right?"

"I'm not taking a guy if that's what you want," Kenny replied, crossing his arms over his chest, not feeling particularly generous towards the young British man for being stuck in the locker, "I'm not that bi-sexual."

"No, don't be stupid," Pip frowned, "I just wondered… as friends? It's not like I can take anyone. The staff would probably kick me out if I brought someone not wearing a dress."

"Friends?"

"You know," Pip looked a little uncomfortable, "like Stan and Kyle would do if neither had a date."

Kenny raised an eyebrow, "Are we talking about the same Stan Marsh?"

"Kenny, you fucking arsehole," Pip grumbled, "You know fine well what I mean! I just want company. You don't need to be such a chicken shit about it."

"Sure we can go as friends," Kenny shrugged, "But I still want Bebe. I'm still going to get Bebe."

Pip smirked, "Oh? You're going to try and steal her from the circumcised tripod then?"

"Definitely. Kyle might have a great ass and a…. but I've got technique. I'm much manlier than he is. And Bebe likes me more anyway"

"I think Kyle is more than enough man for the likes of Bebe," Pip shook his head and looked up the corridor where Stan had disappeared, "Want me to fetch him for you?"

"Yes please," Kenny said, "I don't want to be caught alone with the fatass."

Pip disappeared amongst the throng of students, searching for the elusive Stan Marsh while Kenny leaned against the open locker. He stared at the floor, angry with himself for being such a douche bag to Pip and relying on Stan Marsh to get him from class to class unbruised. It just seemed like everything was going wrong for him recently. Ever since he had taken that money from Craig.

He was a little upset that he had missed such a momentous moment in his ex-best friend's life as well. It should have been him that Eric talked so proudly to. Now he was nothing but a cockroach. A stupid, nearly mother-fucking asshole.

He really wanted to make it up to Eric. He did not have a clue how yet but it would have to be something really big for breaking the biggest rule in the dude rulebook. It was like the single most important commandment in a guy's world; you do not fuck around with your best friend's mother, sister, cousin, female best friend or a potential girlfriend. You either keep it in your pants or you leave town, because as far as sentencing such an unscrupulous individual went, you'd be talking about 20 years to life in social damnation.

And Kenny did not want to have to wait til his thirties to get the chance to be friends with Eric again. He missed the big, fat fuck. Cartman was an asshole but he could be pretty funny and had rare moments of generosity that made Kenny's life so much more bearable. Cartman looked after his own as well, and Kenny was only beginning to realise now that it was better to have Cartman on your side then have his hatred, anger and malicious scheming pointed straight at you.

He wondered if he just missed the idea of having a best friend. Cartman and Kenny had became best friends by default after Stan and Kyle formed their mutual admiration society so perhaps their friendship had meant nothing at all. Perhaps it was just a façade and Kenny just wanted someone in his life that he could label a best friend.

No… he wanted Eric. And not having him around sucked donkey balls.

Kenny needed his best friend in the twenty minutes after Pip disappeared. The corridor was now deserted and he had slid down the side of the locker to sit on the floor, not caring about going to class. He was wallowing in his angst like a little pussy when a shadow fell across his path. He looked up and saw a dark haired young man.

"Hey Stan," Kenny blinked, slightly blinded by the garish fluorescent lighting. He tried to focus and froze when he saw who it was.

Craig snarled down at Kenny, looking quite odd without his usual Lollerskates blue hat. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of Kenny's hair, pulling the smaller boy to his feet. Kenny tried to pull out of his grip but Craig had too strong a grip and pulling away only made Kenny's scalp burn in pain.

"Get up you little fucker," Craig pushed Kenny against the locker, letting go his hair and gripping Kenny's jaw instead.

"What the fuck Craig?" Kenny struggled, "let me go!"

Craig squeezed Kenny's jaw painfully and bashed the back of Kenny's head against the metal, "You're not going anywhere. You owe me big time."

"Listen, Craig," Kenny rasped, barely able to speak, "the bet is off. I don't want to do it anymore. I'll give you back your money."

Craig bashed Kenny's head against the locker again, "I don't want my fucking money back. But you still owe me."

"I don't want to do it!" Kenny protested and tries to kick Craig in the shin but it had little effect.

"So your fat bastard friend thinks he's better than me, huh?" Kenny didn't have a clue what Craig was talking about, "he thinks he can make a bitch out of me? I don't fucking think so."

Kenny struggled for a breath.

"You're still going to get those pictures," Craig hissed at him, his expression terrifying, "you're going to get those pictures of his mom and I'm going to be the one to make a bitch out of him. And you're going to fuck her too, just to stick it in his fat fucking face!"

"His mom, dude… come on."

"Did or did I not give you a hundred dollars in advance?" Craig asked and letting go of Kenny's jaw he took an even firmer hold on Kenny's wrist instead.

"If you're wanting to pay back that hundred dollars without fucking his mom," Craig said, "you're going to pay it back like this." He pushed Kenny's wrist up in a painful angle and kept pushing, the pain was unbearable, "Every single dollar of the hundred dollars is going to be one of your bones. Your spine can be $10, your neck can be $15."

Kenny whimpered and pushed Craig away, holding onto his poor wrist, "you sick fuck… I haven't done anything to you!"

"No, but your ex-best friend did. And as far as I'm concerned, you're still his little bitch and I'm still going to take it out on your ass," Craig pulled back his right fist and thrust it forward, connecting with Kenny's nose.

Kenny saw stars, feeling the blood drip down his face and down the back of his throat. He mentally cursed and grabbed his face when Craig grabbed his head and knocked it into the locker, once, twice, then a third time. Kenny sank to the floor in agony, unable to see, losing all his breath when he felt the sharp kick to his chest.

"Going to scream for your fat friend?" Craig asked although Kenny could barely hear him, "he's not going to come running for your scrawny ass anymore is he?"

Kenny held his chest, desperately trying to suck oxygen into his lungs. He couldn't scream even if he had wanted to.

"You're going to take pictures of his mother, the freak that she is," Craig spat, "and you're going to give them to me, aren't you? If you don't I'll break every single one of your bones."

Kenny wanted to retreat to the safety of his bedcovers. He had known it was a bad idea to escape that refuge.

He looked up into the other boy's face and could only nod, unable to speak. Craig smirked and grabbed a hold of Kenny. For a moment he thought Craig was going to pull him to his feet and their fight would be over but that was not the case.

"See you around McCormick," Craig pulled the empty locker open again and shoved Kenny into it face first, the scrawny kid stuck in the enclosed space. Craig closed the locker door with a bang and locked it.

Kenny shivered in the darkness, unable to breathe, unable to see. He could scream now but would anyone even hear him?

He mentally kicked himself. If Cartman had still been his friend… then he'd never be stuck in here.

"Some knight in shining armour you are, Stan Marsh," Kenny whispered bitterly.

* * *

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE

The amazing Seaouryou drew fanart for me based on this fic and she gave Craig his trademark hat but with Lollerskates written across it. So I've kept that just as a salute to her. I don't want to change it at all.


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